


I Fell for Myself

by CountessMillarca



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Angst Then, Bodyswap, Canon Compliant, Complete, Drabble Sequence, F/M, Humor First, Romance, Sexual Content, Twists & Turns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 36,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountessMillarca/pseuds/CountessMillarca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark miko curses Kagome and Sesshoumaru into switching bodies. They embark on a journey to break the curse with comical results -- but not everything was a laughing matter when all was said and done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Had Happened in an Instant

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha. All rights belong to Takahashi, Rumiko-sensei.
> 
> A/N: I was watching a K-Drama called "Secret Garden" and was inspired to write a fic with body switching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 331

It had happened in an instant. No one knew how exactly it had happened either. Sesshōmaru stared at Kagome, his features a mask of horror and disbelief then gave a loud scream. He ran amok, flailing his arms everywhere, uncaring of his surroundings and the bloody remains of Naraku's yōkai strewn on the ground.

"This cannot happen! Why the hell is this happening? Oh gods!"

The daiyōkai's voice teemed with panic. Everyone gawked at the astonishing sight, transfixed, until Inuyasha snapped out of his shock. Confusion coated his blunt tone when he spoke.

"Oi, Sesshōmaru, what the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Sit!"

Inuyasha froze, feared the command would truly work for a mere fragment of a second – then he sputtered in outrage.

"Huh? What the hell, asshole? Only the wench can say that word!"

"Sit."

It was the silent miko who uttered the order this time, but the dispassionate expression she wore had never graced her delicate features before. The hanyō was effectively plastered to the ground. Kagome then proceeded to press one foot on the hanyō's head with disdain evident on her face. Her short green skirt rode high on her elevated thigh, exposing her shapely legs to everyone around. A shrill shriek escaped the daiyōkai's throat not a minute later. Everyone stilled at the undignified sound that came from none other than Sesshōmaru, doubting that the aristocratic being could even make such a sound.

"Cover your legs! My legs! Whatever! Just…just do it!"

A slight blush shaded the daiyōkai's cheeks. Once again, everyone marveled at the sight. Then Miroku took it upon him to shed some light to this inconceivable situation.

"I believe it is time we all calmed down. There is obviously something wrong here."

His gaze locked on the miko and daiyōkai pair with curiosity and contemplation aplenty in his eyes.

"Hn. That is an understatement, monk."

Kagome huffed, though elegantly.

"You can say that again."

Sesshōmaru's snort was quite audible, solidified the daiyōkai's uncharacteristic behavior.


	2. This Body Has Its Uses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 420

"You're saying that a dark miko cursed you in Naraku's earlier attack and you switched bodies as a result?"

Sango was aghast at the daiyōkai's explanation. The solemn undertones in Kagome's voice made the situation all the weirder. More so when the miko – in the daiyōkai's body – began shaking with pitiful tears. Inuyasha approached the sobbing inuyōkai, albeit reluctantly, and patted his back with as much affection as he could muster under the circumstances.

"Come on, wench. There is no need for tears. We'll find that dark miko and you'll get back in your body in no time!"

The hanyō's reassurance did nothing to calm the distressed inuyōkai. Kagome hurled herself in her friend's arms, clinging on for dear life, and Inuyasha flinched as if burned by the contact.

"Um…Kagome? Can you please stop hugging me while you're in that bastard's body? It's really disturbing…"

It was no more than a murmur. Inuyasha had blanched at the sudden action, itched to get away from the yōkai's clutches. Sesshōmaru's shared repulsion was his only salvation.

"Control yourself, miko. Do not assume such a disgraceful appearance whilst in my body."

His words served to awaken Kagome's wrath. Tear-streaked yet frustrated, she glared at Sesshōmaru under her lashes.

"I will act in a collect manner when you finally stand in a proper position."

Everyone took better note of the stance Sesshōmaru had assumed. He – or better yet she – was reclining against a tree with one leg bent, light blue panties exposed for the world to see. Miroku's lips curved in a lascivious grin.

"I am rather fond of your current position, Kagome-sama!"

His mirth died when a light green whip missed his most prized parts by a margin not a second later.

"I – I am sorry! I only meant to say that I would do some serious damage to certain body parts of yours while pointing at them, not actually do it."

The daiyōkai – now turned Kagome – was both bewildered and awed at the energy whip spilling from her fingertips. She flicked her wrist with an experimental motion, almost maiming the monk once again. In the midst of less than manly shrieks and more apologies, a command rang, though softly spoken.

"Sit."

The hanyō took a head dive to the ground for the second time this day.

"The fuck, man! Stop doing that!"

Enraged, with a mouthful of dirt, Inuyasha rubbed his aching back.

"Hn. This body has its uses."

Sesshōmaru appeared pleased – and Kagome sighed at the absurdity of their predicament.


	3. Lead the Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 441

Both parties decided they would begin the hunt for the dark miko in the morning.

"I'm sorry, Kagome-chan."

Neither Sango's apology nor her sympathy allayed Kagome's dejection. The fight with Naraku's countless yōkai had depleted them all – physically and mentally – including the miko's own body.

"Ningen. Such weak creatures."

Full of condescendence, Sesshōmaru sneered – then he walked away from the pack, limping due to a leg injury Kagome had received during the battle.

"Where exactly are you going, Sesshōmaru? We cannot possibly defend ourselves since we are unfamiliar with these bodies, and I would appreciate it if you stayed alive until we could switch back."

Kagome made a grimace as she near nicked her tongue on her fangs while she spoke. Her irritation at Sesshōmaru's aloof attitude throughout this mess had reached its zenith.

"I must bathe and tend to the wounds. This body is filthy and injured."

Sesshōmaru's declaration wrenched a gasp out of Kagome's throat. She gaped at him, wide-eyed, tried to convince herself she had misinterpreted his words to no avail.

"D-Did you just say you're going to have a bath in _my_ body?"

A hiss and a glare, menacing, she took a step towards him, and another – but then a foul smell assaulted her sensitive nose. She nearly gagged in reflex, retreated none too gracefully.

"What is that god-awful smell?"

Her question came out muffled. A clawed hand covered the lower half of her face in an attempt to lessen the effect.

"You," Sesshōmaru said simply.

Kagome stared at him, perplexed, but nodded in understanding – and slight mortification.

"Is it always like this? How can you stand it?"

Now that the initial shock of their body swap had worn off, she could perceive a multitude of scents, most of them quite unpleasant.

"It is the reason I dislike visiting ningen villages. Come, miko. If you do not wish for this one to glimpse upon your body then you shall be the one to bathe me."

Silence befell Kagome after his haughty suggestion. She stood rigidly still, torn between her choices. Neither having him see her body nor enduring the vile stench as she bathed him was appealing. When she came even closer to her original body, her stomach heaved in revulsion, decided for her.

"You know what? I'll just wait for you here. You can just close your eyes."

Kagome laughed, half-nervous, half-vexed, but favored her stomach over modesty.

"You forget I must touch this body in order to cleanse it."

The daiyōkai's logic was infallible – and Kagome surrendered to her fate. A sigh slipped past her lips, but she couldn't dispute him.

"Lead the way."


	4. Run for Your Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 426

Kagome was the one to speak first once they reached the river.

"Keep your eyes closed."

It was a command, reminiscent of Sesshōmaru's austere cadence.

"Do not order me, miko. If it pleases me to watch then I will. However, you may rest assured, for there is nothing of worth to my gaze."

Sesshōmaru might have closed his eyes per instructed, but his tongue cut with defiance and mockery.

"You really have a way to rub people the wrong way…"

Kagome ground her teeth, began undressing him, unsure if she should be pleased or insulted by his comment. Hence, she opted for ignoring him completely – but she paid for her agitation when she tried to remove the white and green uniform he wore. Unaccustomed to having claws, her uniform was rendered to rips and pieces.

"Great! Now I'll have to go back to the village naked."

Head hung low, mortified at her handiwork, she sighed.

"You could return and procure clothing, miko. With yōkai speed, this should be child's play."

Sesshōmaru's tone implied she should have thought of it on her own, but Kagome was too elated to be angered.

"Of course! Being in your body does have advantages as well."

Grinning with belligerence, she couldn't help but repay him for his earlier taunt.

"Alright, I'll be back soon. Do not move from here and if anything attacks you…run for your life!"

It was half-joke and half-advice. Sesshōmaru's lips curled in disrelish.

"Absurd. I do not run from an enemy."

Laugher buzzed in her lungs, palpitated on her tongue, but she humored him anyway.

"Well, I do all the time, so you better get used to it. Unless you are adept with a bow, I don't see how you can defend yourself."

Features strung with displeasure, Sesshōmaru corrected her assumptions.

"Do not compare your feeble battle skills to mine. Swordsmanship is not a yōkai ability, miko. I assure you, even in this weak body, I can still handle a sword. Bring back a sword when you return. This reiki filled body cannot wield Bakusaiga."

A snort made its way past her lips at that.

"Anything else, your royal highness? Perhaps some sake and women?"

If Sesshōmaru caught the dryness in her voice, it didn't show.

"Clothing and a sword will suffice."

Kagome shook her head then turned to leave. Unfortunately, she was not used to yōkai speed either – she collided with the first tree in her path. The last thing Sesshōmaru heard was a painful grunt and a few choice curses attached to his name.


	5. Understood, Woman?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 473

Kagome returned to the river after twenty minutes of random collisions with various objects in her way. She was liable to commit murder – but then she took note of her nude body, half-submerged in the water, laved by the moon's soft light. Siren-like beauty. It was lovely, drew her closer. Coolness sinuated around her ankles, woke her half-lucid mind, and she made sense of what she was seeing.

"Your eyes are wide open."

His neck slanted, his eyes sought hers, unabashed. Unrepentant.

"You took an unreasonable amount of time to return. You may proceed unless you wish to spend the night arguing over such a meaningless matter."

A sigh tangled with the words forming on her vocal cords. It appeared to have become her signature response ever since they changed bodies.

"I never thought I'd say this, but being around you is more mentally exhausting than trying to keep up with Inuyasha…"

Then she shook her head, dropped the matter.

"Can you undress me? I'm afraid I'll end up ripping apart your fine kimono."

Slender fingers untied the plated armor with slow, practiced motions. Kagome's eyes sought the night sky, shades of the darkest mauve and amorphous shadows. The moon hung heavy and high – a slice of opalescence suspended by unseen strings. A waft of breeze susurrated, caressed her skin with languorous strokes as he undressed her body. Piece by piece. Inch by inch.

"You may bathe this body, miko."

Sesshōmaru's voice was mellisonant, merged with the ambiance of nighttime. Kagome siphoned the sound, imbibed its mellifluence – then she regained her wits. Her senses were heightened, enhanced. It made everything more potent, more tempting than it should be. She cleared her head of such thoughts then lowered her eyes to begin cleansing Sesshōmaru – but then her gaze fell upon her new body. Accentuated bones and hard contours and litheness and –

A strangled gasp escaped her throat, half-shock, half-denial. She acted on unbridled instincts, dove forward – and took Sesshōmaru with her. They fell into the water. A flux of sensations slithered across her skin – softness and moisture and undulations of limbs. Sesshōmaru's response was instant. She was being pressed back, thighs straddled her waist, bones gliding against flesh – then silence, clashing gazes, strange awareness. His eyes were too blue, his pupils too black, prescience and something else, darker, luring. Sesshōmaru moved then, made to disentangle himself from her, and all thought abandoned her. Heat seeped into her nerves, ignited a slow burn, spread through her body. Pleasure swelled and coiled in her abdomen – low and lower still. Another kind of wetness glissaded over her pelvic bones, over hardened flesh – and the source of such reactions stilled. No more than a murmur, low undertones and huskiness, Sesshōmaru's voice titillated her ears.

"You will not move. You will not look. You will not talk. Understood, woman?"


	6. You Shall Never Speak of This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 435

The implications of their situation, of their shared lapse, sank into her mind – a rainstorm of denial and tumult. Kagome couldn't mistake arousal – she could even _smell_ the zesty scent of it, feel its slick heaviness on her skin. Sesshōmaru's weight shifted then, spared her of physical stimulation. The heat waves in her blood ebbed, the tangle of desire uncoiled, and she released the breath that clogged her throat.

"You shall never speak of this. I believe it would be prudent to bathe separately lest this occurs once again."

Sesshōmaru never waited for her reply, only turned his back, waded away from her in the shallow waters.

Kagome nodded her acquiescence mechanically. Allowing him to see and touch and feel her body was a small price to pay compared to the alternative. It didn't occur to her that she would have to do the same, though. No – the realization struck later. Much too late.

She began washing her arms. Claws grazed at her skin, light welts, rivulets of dark red – and Kagome slowed, forced herself to handle this with care. Muscles clenched and tightened under her fingertips, involuntary spasms. There was no need for modesty – only curiosity, observation.

This being was litheness, sinewy thews stretched under taut skin, made for exploration – and temptation. Such was the silkiness of his hair – a glow of moonstone cascading down her body – such was the virility of his form – then she saw them. Stripes, thin, sinuous lines in shades of plum, twisting around her forearms, across her clavicle, over her hipbones – and lower, beneath the water's surface. Perhaps they even tasted like plums, sweet, addictive.

Ripples lapped at her skin, slow, sensual flow, back and forth, tempting her with strips of nakedness, provoking her with _lower_ and _more_. The river, her curiosity, his markings – _everything_ – were conspiring against her. Metallic satin for hair, pale skin, inches and inches of it, lean muscles, graced with animal agility. A whirlwind of sensations – close to want, much too close – wisps of fire in her eyes as she stared at her reflection in the watery mirror. It was enough, she had enough – no more. Her lids lowered, lips thinned, jaw tense. Inhalation. Exhalation. Kagome didn't resume her bathing until her touch no longer burned, no longer evoked such reactions.

In the midst of bathing, her ears caught a sound, something between a snarl and a growl, but feminine, not too rough, not too soft – and she knew. Sesshōmaru was experiencing if not the same reactions then very similar ones. The decision to wash their own bodies had been unsound – for both of them.


	7. As If a Pelt Could Think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 425

"Oi, Kagome! What the hell is taking you so long?"

Inuyasha's arrival was unexpected – and Kagome's reserves for patience had been exhausted.

"Idiot."

She threw the first thing she could find at him. It was a small pebble from the river's bottom. Combined with her newfound strength, it wheezed through the air like a bullet and knocked the hanyō flat on his back. Inuyasha blinked once, shocked, taken aback by his fall. He barely paid attention to the form that loomed over him – but he should have.

"Your presence was not required, hanyō."

Sesshōmaru stood above him, legs planted on each side of Inuyasha's head, nude and wet and unforgiving. _Everything_ was visible to Inuyasha from his position on the ground. A froth of saliva and choked sounds was all that came out of Inuyasha's throat – then he passed out.

Kagome stared at the siblings in shock-induced paralysis. A headache began to throb behind her eyes, vicious, pounding.

"What the hell is your problem, Sesshōmaru? Is exhibitionism one of your secret fetishes?"

It was the last straw. Her self-control snapped, her chest rose and fell with each vociferated word. Kagome was on the verge of hyperventilation. Depending on Sesshōmaru's answer, she was not averse to throttling him.

The daiyōkai gave her but a mere glance, filled with apathy, as if he cared nothing for the matter – and he probably didn't. Kagome would have given in to her impulses, would have strangled him, despite his body being her own, had she not been assaulted by something soft and fur-like. The thing wrapped itself around her like a boa, in constricting rows, sultry suffocation.

"Damn! One thing after the other!"

Kagome cursed, wrestled with the silky fur to no avail. Water flew in loud splashes everywhere in her awkward attempts to rid herself of the thing.

"Calm yourself, miko. The pelt sensed your unease at being exposed. It simply wished to provide covering."

The way Sesshōmaru explained this, in the most insipid tone she had ever heard, as if this was a normal occurrence, gave her pause.

"This… _thing_ is sentient? It knows what I think?"

Kagome calmed, spit out some fur, ceased her struggles, and the pelt slackened its hold.

"Do not be ridiculous, miko. As if a pelt could think. It can merely sense strong emotions and react accordingly."

An arched brow met her glare. Many thoughts of murdering the regal yōkai in many creative ways raced in her mind.

"Funny. If that was true then why is it not suffocating _you_ instead?"


	8. They Make a Scary Pair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 700

Both parties were contemplating their course of action over breakfast.

"We know that the dark miko who cursed you is allied with Naraku. If we follow his miasma we will eventually encounter her as well."

Miroku's logic was solid, accepted by everyone. Inuyasha was the first to stand, bustling with impatience and aggression.

"Then nothing changes. We were already going to hunt down that bastard. Hurry it up! We're wasting daylight! And keep your clothes on at all times!"

The hanyō leveled Sesshōmaru with a glare, full of venom, still sore about the previous night's incident, and all nodded in accordance – all but Miroku.

"I would not mind your lack of clothing, Sesshōmaru-sama. If you feel more comfortable being in the nude then you are more than welcome to discard clothing from now on."

Miroku's grin whelmed with salacity, but strangely added a note of normalcy to the whole affair. Kagome cracked her knuckles, half-amused, half-serious.

"Miroku-san…"

The monk laughed, but it was strained, nervous. He hid behind Sango with fear for his family jewels. The urge to stroke her backside as well earned him a painful kick to his groin either way. Sesshōmaru watched the human pair with disdain then diverted his attention to his half-brother.

"A true alpha does not bark orders like a rabid dog, hanyō. Your pack follows because they have placed their trust in you."

Inuyasha scowled at the daiyōkai. He understood that he was being insulted, but couldn't quite grasp the finer meaning in Sesshōmaru's words.

"So?"

"Your uncouth manners do not befit a leader."

The hanyō's features flushed with a scarlet shade of anger as he became fully cognizant of the insult, but then a sardonic smirk split his lips, and he erupted in laughter.

"Touch luck, asshole. You're stuck in Kagome's body for who knows how long and you're going to have to follow my orders. You're a weak human now!"

Silence reigned after the sentences left his mouth, whispered deadly calm, that it was the wrong thing to say. Kagome chuckled then, but it was neither light nor pleasant.

"Oh? A weak human, now am I? Care to repeat that?"

Taunt slathered on words, warning in the gold of her irises. The miko came to stand beside the daiyōkai, stared at the hanyō, half-lidded threat. Inuyasha gulped audibly, lost his bravado. He took a hesitant step back, uncertain.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"This human body may be weak, yet the purification energy it holds within can be quite harmful to you, half-breed."

Sesshōmaru spoke slowly, accented each word. His hand rose, bathed in luminous light. A whip of reiki lashed the air, missed Inuyasha by a margin. Inuyasha's eyes widened at the unfamiliar attack. It was powerful – that much was true – but he had never witnessed the miko manipulate her reiki in such a way. He didn't have time to comment on the change, though. Yōki flared, mantled Kagome's body, scintillated with lethal intent.

"I always wondered why you were struggling against Sesshōmaru, but now I can see the reason. This body overflows with demonic energy. It's so high that I am having trouble controlling it. Be careful, Inuyasha – unleashing it all against you is _very_ tempting."

"Why the hell are you teaming up with _him_ , Kagome? I thought you hated the asshole!"

Despite the wild clashing of energies, the tensile apprehension, Inuyasha refused to heed his survival instincts, pressed the pair still.

Kagome snorted. "I already knew he was a jerk. Sharing the same blood with him also makes you an asshole, apparently."

"You're a ningen! You might be a miko, but you never showed any real potential either. You keep getting kidnapped by strange yōkai and you complain when you get tired. You _are_ weak! That's why I vowed to protect you!"

The smile that stretched across Inuyasha's cheeks was placating, albeit faltering, but his words were far from it, sealed his fate.

"Sesshōmaru…say it."

"Sit. Be glad I feel merciful, hanyō. Sit."

Kagome hummed in approval, stepped over the fallen hanyō to exit the hut, the daiyōkai on her heels.

"They make a scary pair…" Shippō shuddered at the hanyō's pitiful moans then shook his head.


	9. Great Work, Asshole!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 488

Wisps of light broke through the last dark of the night, brought the beginning of a new day. Sesshōmaru and Kagome stood at a secluded clearing not far from the village after the daiyōkai's urging.

"Mind telling me why we woke up at the crack of dawn?"

Kagome had slept, but she could tell it was more of a habit and less of a necessity. When Sesshōmaru had shaken her lightly to ask for her company, she was already awake.

"We are vulnerable if we remain as is. You will train in the demonic skills and I in the purifying arts."

No nonsense, straight to the point – a statement. Kagome nonetheless nodded, recognized the merit in it.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Meditation. We must come in touch with the source of our powers before we begin any training."

Kagome conceded it made sense. Power never came easily or without effort.

"Focus, miko."

Lowering himself to the ground, Sesshōmaru assumed the Lotus position and bade her to copy his example.

They spent the better part of an hour in soundless meditation – then complications arose. A growl rent the hush of the wind, foreboded perilous danger. Kagome's features began to morph, adopt animal-like qualities, signaling her impending transformation to the daiyōkai's true form.

"Control the beast, miko. Do not allow it to overwhelm you. You must command the demonic energy into doing your bidding."

Sesshōmaru's advice was useless. Her transformation had progressed too far.

"I'm trying! The urge to just let it take over is too much! I – I can't…"

Her words were donned in animal hide, more rumble than voice. Kagome lost all human characteristics, fully transformed. Sesshōmaru perused the white beast that stood before him with traces of curiosity and reproach in his mien.

"This happened due to your lack of control."

While in his true form, Kagome wouldn't – c _ouldn't_ – understand human speech, had little to no reason. Sesshōmaru could only wait for her to exhaust her yōki and revert out of necessity.

"What the hell is going on here?" The hanyō's voice rang in the clearing, strident and boisterous, earned him a snarl from the giant beast. Inuyasha gawked at her for a few seconds then turned on Sesshōmaru with a thunderous expression.

"Great work, asshole! She turned into a fucking dog! How can we turn her back?"

"You will fight with her until she reverts. It is the only way."

Confusion lanced Inuyasha's mind, stunned his anger but for a moment.

"I…what!?"

"I cannot possibly fight with her in this unfamiliar body. Not to mention my attacks will have little to no power behind them. I suggest you hurry before she decimates a ningen village, hanyō."

Inuyasha's neck tilted, emulated Sesshōmaru's motions. He saw the miko – now turned beast – heading towards the village.

"Fuck! Why am I always the one getting screwed?"

Resigned, the hanyō gritted his teeth, took off after the berserk miko.


	10. I Have to Go!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 672

"I'm sorry…"

Kagome couldn't help but apologize _again_ while she helped Sango bandage a battered hanyō.

"Keh, these small wounds are nothing, wench."

Inuyasha's pain-laden grimace spoke louder than words, betrayed his tough act show. Sesshōmaru held no qualms over stating facts, though.

"Seven broken bones and thirty seven stitches hardly count as nothing, hanyō. You are fortunate to be alive. If it had not been for my assistance, you would have suffered mortal injuries."

"Shut up, asshole! I didn't need your help! I could have handled a mad puppy on my own just fine!"

Contempt laced the hanyō's snicker.

"Sit."

The fact that Sesshōmaru hadn't even raised his voice added insult to injury.

"You…will pay…for this…bastard…"

Inuyasha's body refused to cooperate any longer. He was nothing but a mumbling mess of anger, twitching on the ground, aggravating his injures in the process. Kagome situated herself on his back to make him cease his struggles.

"How did you stop me, Sesshōmaru?"

"The hanyō attempted to exhaust your demonic reserves while he avoided causing you serious injury. I shielded him with a reiki barrier which halted your attacks for a few crucial seconds until he began a new attack each time. Otherwise, you would have killed him within mere moments."

The daiyōkai's explanations were almost drowned under Inuyasha's incoherent curses, but Kagome heard him loud and clear.

"You can form adequate barriers already?"

To say that she was impressed by Sesshōmaru's fast learning abilities would be an understatement.

"Reiki manipulation is similar to yōki manipulation, miko. If you had proper training in the purifying arts, you would be able to control the beast instead of allowing it to consume you."

Kagome reckoned it made sense, felt a thrill of exhilaration at the possibilities.

"Does this mean that once we revert to our original bodies, I will be able to fully utilize my miko powers if I learn how to manipulate yōki now?"

"Precisely. You will also learn kendo – the way of the sword. Your powers and fighting abilities will be magnified exponentially when you return to your own body. Compared to my useless brother, you hold potential to improve and become quite powerful if you dedicate yourself to my harsh training."

A brilliant smile touched Kagome's lips, satisfaction molded into a facial expression – then Inuyasha snapped.

"Who the fuck are you calling useless? I cut off your arm once, bastard! And if it hadn't been for Tenseiga, I would have blown you to bloody pieces another time! I can kick your ass to hell and back!"

He wiggled under Kagome's weight, as if to emphasize his words, but couldn't break free.

"You are no better than a pup, hanyō. You will prove an adequate sparring partner while the miko learns swordsmanship and yōki manipulation. Perhaps these lessons will prove to be of benefit to you as well. It is a disgrace seeing you swing our sire's fang around like a barbarian with no refinement at all."

Sesshōmaru's tone carried such finality that Inuyasha seethed with rage.

"I don't need your stinking lessons, jerk!"

The hanyō would have continued his tirade had Kagome not squirmed with discomfort atop him, rocking herself against his back.

"The hell, wench! That's disgusting! Stop rubbing that asshole's butt on me!"

"I – I _have_ to go…"

Kagome's murmur abounded with panic, her features strung, ill-favored.

"Yeah! That's what I was telling you! Go, get off of me!"

"No, I mean, I have to _go_."

Inuyasha blanched as realization dawned on him.

"Then go find a bush and pee!"

"I _really_ don't want to – you know…"

Teeth sinking into her lower lip, Kagome tried to avoid the inevitable.

"Well, you got no other choice, wench! Don't you dare pee _on_ me just 'cause you're squeamish!"

Hearing the reluctance in her voice, Inuyasha feared for the worst, struggled to escape from underneath her with renewed vigor.

"Come, miko. This one will instruct you on the way of relieving yourself."

Sesshōmaru left Kagome with no other choice but to follow after him.


	11. Aren't They Lucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 629

Kagome's first experience with urination in the daiyōkai's body was engraved in her memory. Disastrous, wretched ordeal. Sesshōmaru's scrutiny as she cleaned herself made Kagome all the more self-conscious. She parted her lips to say something – _anything_ – but found herself at a loss for words. The first thing that came to her mind was…to talk of menstruation. Ludicrous – but within context. She was talking before she could halt herself.

"Since you explained to me how to relieve myself, perhaps we should also talk of specific female _needs_. It won't be long now anyway…"

Sesshōmaru stared at her with mild curiosity.

"Elaborate on these female needs as you called them, miko."

His calm demeanor assuaged her discomfiture, made this rather easy. Nevertheless, Kagome thought it prudent to test his knowledge beforehand. There was no need to shock him senseless with her explanations of future products designed for this purpose if he didn't even possess basic awareness.

"Do female yōkai bleed like human women every month?"

The flash of surprise in the zaffre of his eyes spoke for itself. Sesshōmaru was painfully ignorant on the matter – not that Kagome hadn't guessed he would be.

"Bleed? Why would a female deliberately injure herself, miko?"

Kagome exhaled a long-suffering sigh – and cursed the dark miko who caused their affliction.

"I guess I will have to start from the beginning. I'm not sure if our reproductive systems work in the same way, but human women have a menstrual cycle each month. We produce eggs to be fertilized by a man's sperm. If they are not fertilized then the body discards them – hence the bleeding part."

The usage of technical terms added a more impersonal tone in their discussion, if only slightly.

"You have a monthly heat cycle?"

Kagome nodded, relieved Sesshōmaru had caught on quickly.

"Yōkai females enter heat in specific breeding seasons depending on the type of yōkai they are – yet they do not…bleed."

His revelation, however unwittingly, roiled inside her, wrung curl of envy.

"Aren't they lucky?"

"Producing heirs is an important matter. Having the opportunity to do so every month is a blessing. I consider the ningen females' cycle an advantage, miko."

Laughter spilled from her throat at his matter-of-fact tone – Kagome couldn't help but pity him.

"Let's see if you'll think the same way in a few days."

Sesshōmaru frowned but didn't make further inquiries. Maybe he sensed that he was better off without that knowledge – or maybe he simply didn't care. Whatever it was, his decision spared him of much grief. Kagome shook her head, tethered her amusement.

"Back to the bleeding part. It lasts for a few days – in my case usually four. We use certain products to contain it. They are called tampons and look like small tubes. You insert them in the vagina and you need to change them every few hours."

He stilled. Kagome waited for his reaction, fought not to laugh again.

"You insert foreign parts into your body for the duration of your cycle?"

Despite the lack of physical manifestation, shock dwelt in his eyes. Unmistakable. Undeniable. Kagome gave a small chuckle, but smothered it when his features hardened into an impenetrable mask.

"I could simply use pads, but they are ineffective in my case since we travel a lot – it's uncomfortable and impractical. I always ended up making a mess of myself, so I switched to tampons. I will explain more on the subject when you actually get your period. Let's hope we find the dark miko before this happens… You might kill me when you get your body back for subjecting you to this."

Kagome did not think it necessary to explain what PMS was. Sesshōmaru's lethal mood was like a constant current – she doubted it would differ much during menstruation.


	12. Well Done, Miko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 860

They had traveled in quietude for the better part of a day when Kagome felt it – an influx of sensation. It enveloped Kagome, seeped into her skin, pervaded the core of her being. It rippled and undulated, swelled and filled her with a sense of belonging, too light to be denied, too heavy to be absorbed. A breath of time, of unceasing essence, more than voice, neither male nor female but both. The wind susurrated, the trees swayed, the earth hummed – the voice of nature, of all things living. It spoke to _Kagome_ , welcomed her, made her a part of life, despite her exiguity in comparison. She understood what it meant to be _yōkai_ , was aware of the flow of all things – be it the rustling of leaves or the shuffling of animals.

Then she heard it – a primeval song of venery and ravenous hunger. The sound sundered her mind, resonated in her veins. Such feral joy, tameless. Impulse birthed itself in her body – to slice the earth, devour the soil, feast on blood and flesh. To be the Hunter, the first breath of death, the last pulsation of life. Ferocious. Insatiable. One word echoed, clamored for satiety. _Prey_.

"Inuyasha." Her voice was heavy, her exhilaration heavier. "Let's make camp. Everyone is tired and need rest."

"What the hell, wench? Don't tell me you get tired in that bastard's body! We'll stop when I say so!"

A growl met the hanyō's arguments and stubbornness. Sesshōmaru appraised the rise in yōki, the taste of wildness in it.

"Calm down, miko. I understand the urge to hunt – but if you allow it to consume you then you risk transforming again."

Inuyasha bristled when he learned the reason for the miko's restlessness.

"Hunt? Oh hell no! Just chase around your tail or something and get over it!"

Another growl, less restrained, more savage.

"We will make camp and I will instruct the miko in the ways of the hunt."

Sesshōmaru cut Inuyasha with a glare, intolerant of defiance.

"Keh…whatever!"

Inuyasha grimaced, but ceased his objections. The rest of the pack sighed in relief for the small reprieve.

* * *

The first prey Kagome came upon, she didn't wish to kill. It was _too_ lovely, too innocent, too full of grace.

"That's a…deer. Can't I hunt something else? I really don't want to kill such a beautiful animal."

"Your human sensibilities are clouding your judgment. A deer can provide great nourishment for your companions. It is a suitable prey."

The daiyōkai motioned for her to be quiet, gave no further heed to her inane dilemma – and Kagome had to admit he was right, to concede defeat.

"How am I supposed to kill it?"

Her brows knitted into a frown. Kagome had not taken any weapons with her as per Sesshōmaru's instructions.

"This is also a test for you to learn how to regulate yōkai speed. You will approach the prey stealthily then severe the head in a swift attack with your claws."

Kagome nodded her approval, despite being conflicted on the matter, and prepared for an attack. Muscles unclenched, tension unwound, but still sharp, still cogent – then she pounced on the deer in a blur of silver and white. Fur and skin yielded beneath her claws, tender, slick – and she lost control, gorged on the soft flesh like a hound.

"Well done, miko."

Sesshōmaru's praise never reached her ears. Kagome stared at the torn limbs, at the warm entrails. Crimson lapped at her lower face, dripped down in rivulets,. Pale skin and fabric soaked up the liquid. It glided over the hard contours of her body, seeped into the silks of her clothing. She howled, the sound guttural, shed the guise of a human. Rapture speared through her frame, an electrifying current, coursed through blood and bones, the taste of prey potent on her tongue, the scent clinging to her skin.

"Nice job for your first hunt, wench!"

It was Inuyasha's voice that broke through her bloodlust, made her hearken to her surroundings. He grinned down at her from a tall tree and Kagome grinned back with rough-edged joy – but then she felt it. A tightening sensation, near painful, heat and ache low in her abdomen. Kagome lowered her head towards the source of her discomfort, only for her jaw to drop at the prominent bulge, faintly outlined underneath the hakama, proof of her _over-excitement_.

"What's wrong, Kagome?"

The hanyō jumped down with a worried expression and raced towards her.

"I – I…"

On the verge of a mental breakdown, Kagome kept staring at the incriminating body part.

"You wha-"

Inuyasha couldn't even finish his sentence when he caught sight of the reason for her distress. His eyes bulged in mute horror, beads of cold sweat gathered on his skin. He took a few hesitant steps back then turned to his brother with accusation.

"Fucking perfect! Want to instruct her on how to deal with _this_ , too, asshole?"

"I have instructed her in the ways of the hunt. She is your pack mate. Such delicate matters should be explained by a person she is familiar with."

Sesshōmaru merely shook his head in denial once – and left.


	13. Does It Work That Way for You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 459

"Inuyasha…"

Kagome was aware there was no other solution but the one she did not wish to acknowledge, yet she sought Inuyasha's advice – just in case.

"Calm down and it will go away."

Laughter gurgled in her throat at that. _It will go away, he says_. Kagome didn't know if she should tease him or smack him or take mercy on him. She settled for slight mockery and wryness.

"Does it work that way for you?"

Inuyasha either didn't hear the caustic nuance in her voice or he chose to ignore it.

"We are so _not_ having this discussion, wench! Just…deal with it like you would if it was your body having this reaction!"

With one last glance, half-pity and half-revulsion, he turned to walk back to camp.

"Thanks for the insightful advice."

Her taunt received no reply, but she didn't expect one either way.

"Fine. No choice then."

Resignation suffused her being. Kagome seated herself on the ground, back against the bark of the nearest tree, discarding the armor – then she untied the lacings of her hakama. Cool air over hot skin, a sigh of relief, the presage of satisfaction. She trailed a hand towards the erection, straining against the flat of her stomach, careful not to graze herself. Fingertips ghosted over warm, smooth flesh, feathery touches and euphoric sensations and tight pressure. Perhaps Inuyasha was right, more right than he knew. Even if she treated this as she would her own body, Kagome was a _woman_ – and this body was _male_. Mentality could be neither foresworn nor overcome. Her mind and her sight and her instincts were in discordance. She _knew_ , she _saw_ – but she _wanted_.

 _Madness._ Unvoiced, a mere tilt of chin, tongue wetting her upper lip, and she obliged her need, all feral intensity, purring eagerness. Long, with thin veins, too thick but perfect for her grasp, she stroked herself as she watched. Muscles contracted, in her arms, chest, abdomen, and lower, glistened with a fine sheen of sweat and vigor. The pad of a finger circled the tip of her erection, pressing against the slit, gathering the clear essence. Kagome brought it to her lips, tasted the salt and heat of it, laughed at the rumble that followed her action, the insanity of her cravings. _Turned on by my own body – even if it isn't mine…_ She didn't speak it aloud – nothing but quickened breaths and thrusts, slick, white lust smeared on her stomach, and the sigh of a chuckle. _Madness._ She shook her head, spent and weary, sought means to clean herself. Her eyes fell upon a cloth a few feet away, towards the direction Inuyasha had left.

"So much for willing it to go away… You knew it would end like this."


	14. Can't Handle a Little Wolf Lovin'?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 241

Kagome had forgone all thought save the need for warm water and clean clothes. Contemplating whether to make her way back to camp or find a hot spring first, she almost missed the yōki that came from the opposite direction – at an alarmingly fast pace. It was wild, familiar – and most unwelcome.

_Damn it, Kōga-kun! Of all times…_

She quickened her steps, but it was futile. The ōkami had, simply, terrible luck – and was too loud. Kagome heard his cheery voice even before she saw his fur-clad body.

"Kagome! How's my woman doing?"

Trade-mark question on his lips, the whirlwind of yōki and bellicosity that was Kōga made a lunge for her former body.

"Kōga-kun!"

Kagome's warning came too late. The odor of singed fur and burnt skin assaulted her sinuses – then peals of laughter.

"Serves you right, wimpy wolf!"

Inuyasha all but rolled on the ground with amusement.

"Sit."

Displeasure oozed from Sesshōmaru in thick, viscous waves.

"What the fuck is your problem, asshole? Can't handle a little wolf lovin'?"

Despite his painful fall, Inuyasha appeared very much amused. Kagome ignored them both, rushed to help the injured wolf to a sitting a position.

"Kōga-kun? Can you hear me?"

"Who the hell are you? Dog breath's relative? Get your hands off of me!"

Rasp-voiced, confused, Kōga recoiled from her touch as if it worsened his burns. Kagome rubbed her lids, sighed deeply.

"This is going to be a long day…"


	15. Bring It on, Damn Mutt!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 443

"As if I'd believe such a crazy story, mutt face! You're obviously trying to mess with my head!"

Disbelief colored Kōga's features and voice after Kagome revealed the details of their absurd situation.

"Mutt face?"

Kagome had enough of all the shenanigans this day. A smile tugged on her lips, terribly sweet, baneful. It sent chills down Kōga's spine, filled him with apprehension.

"K-Kagome?"

The wolf prince took a step back, slowly, carefully.

"That's what we've been telling you, stinking wolf! You finally get it now? If the wench was scary before – lemme tell ya…you don't wanna make her angry now."

Inuyasha's grimace spoke of memories, of wounds and rampaging beasts. Kōga scowled but didn't ask for details. He chose to focus on the perpetrator rather than the victim, sputtered with outrage.

"That bastard Naraku! Turning my woman into…into –"

"A man, a dog, a dude, a mutt…pick one!"

Inuyasha was relentless, too eager to exploit the wolf's malaise.

"Shut up, asshole! Nobody asked you!"

The hanyō's taunts spurred Kōga for a fight, egged him on. His next words were the finishing blow.

"What's the matter, wolf boy? That's Kagome right there even if she's in that bastard's body. Don't tell me you're so shallow that you only liked what you saw…"

"Kagome is my woman no matter what, dog breath! I don't give a damn if she's in your brother's body!"

Offended beyond measure, Kōga fell for the hanyō's trap.

"Then prove it! Why don't you try your 'be-my-mate' routine now, huh? I dare you to hug her and ask her to mate you!"

"Bring it on, damn mutt! Don't cry when she accepts!"

Reluctance was rolling off of Kōga at the mere thought, yet his voice brimmed with passion.

"Kagome –" He gulped once but took her hands in his. "Be my woman!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he dropped her hands, backpedaled. The pale hue of his eyes dimmed with horror. A familiar scent reached his nostrils, made him heave with disgust.

"HA! I knew you'd chicken out, wimpy wolf!"

Inuyasha finally gave in to uninhibited laughter, but Kōga was overwhelmed by the scent and its implications to start another fight.

"This isn't funny, asshole! Can't you smell her!? Why is she reeking of _that_ scent?"

"Went hunting, got bloodied, had a hard on, rubbed one out. You two can stay here and act like idiots for as long as you like, but I'm taking a bath."

Kagome's line was delivered in the flattest of tones, shocked everyone into silence. She merely shrugged, desensitized after her earlier ordeal, and walked away in search of a hot spring.


	16. I Love You, Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 262

"What the hell is the matter with you today, asshole!?"

Inuyasha had to dig himself out of another hole after the tenth time today – and for no apparent reason at all.

"There is no particular reason. Your mere presence irritates me, hanyō."

Despite the bluntness in his tone, all could see the tightening around Sesshōmaru's eyes, as if he was trying to conceal pain.

"I love you, too."

Inuyasha sneered as he dusted his fire rat kimono – but he needn't have bothered. Not a moment later, he was acquainted with the ground _again_.

"Sit."

"That's it! You're going down, bastard!"

Inuyasha's rage reached its apogee. He lunged for the daiyōkai, only to be intercepted by Kagome with an arm-lock.

"Calm down, Inuyasha. Don't you see the poor guy is suffering?"

Inuyasha struggled against her iron-skinned hold.

"From what? Too much arrogance?"

A snort, full of disdain – but he ceased his resistance when he heard the laughter in Kagome's voice.

"Don't you remember when I act in much the same way as he is now?"

The hanyō's gaze widened in shocked comprehension, making the connection between the daiyōkai's irate mood and the time of the month.

"H-he is –?"

"It's coming soon…maybe even today. If I were you, I would stay as far away from your brother as possible this week."

She stifled a laugh then released the hanyō to walk ahead. The last thing she saw was Sesshōmaru – not so covertly – wincing in pain.

_This body swap has some perks, after all. I'd rather deal with morning wood than a period, anyway._


	17. Do It Yourself!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 441

"Can I help you, Sesshōmaru?"

Kagome knew what he wanted – she couldn't _not_ know – but pretended otherwise. Her grin was sardonic, bore rows of white, perfect teeth.

"I have need of the female products you mentioned in an earlier discussion, miko."

The barest grimace contorted his features, endured pain and discomfort.

"I figured you'd come to your senses soon enough. Doesn't feel like much of a blessing now, does it?"

Even as she threw his words in his face, Kagome sighed. Despite their differences, menstruation was a fate she wouldn't wish on anyone.

"Hn."

"You know, some gratitude wouldn't kill you now and then. Here, these are tampons and these are pain meds. Swallow a pill and the pain will go away for the time being. Heat would help alleviate the cramps, but I forgot to bring a warmer this time around. You are more than welcome to cuddle with Inuyasha like I usually do though. He's like a furnace!"

His lips curled in disgust at her suggestion. Kagome would have laughed had Inuyasha not cursed, rather loudly.

"Fuck that, Kagome! No way in hell I'm cuddling up with _him_! Do it yourself!"

The hanyō shuddered, horripilation crawling across his skin.

"Inuyasha, be nice to your brother in his time of need. It wouldn't kill you to show some love either once in a while."

It was more of a lighthearted jest than anything else. Kagome couldn't bring herself to sound austere while they wore such disgruntled expressions. Miroku couldn't help himself either.

"I would not mind substituting for Inuyasha should you find yourself in need of a warm embrace, Sesshōmaru-sama."

"I'm sure you wouldn't…" Sango deadpanned.

Miroku's inherent urge to profess his fondness for her backside reared its ugly head then – and things became uglier. Unperturbed by the ruckus, Sesshōmaru kept perusing the white cylinder with curiosity.

"Explain the correct use once more, woman."

"I think the shape speaks for itself. You push it in, make sure the string stays out, and after a few hours replace it with another. Simple as that."

The miko shrugged, but Sesshōmaru's next line slew her nonchalance.

"You will demonstrate this first time."

"What do you mean _demonstrate_? You want me to actually…put it in you?"

Disbelief was too tame a word for the emotion coursing through her veins.

"You have done so countless times before. I do not see why this time should be different."

Kagome wanted to argue – so very badly – but she realized she was fighting a losing battle.

"I want to rebuke you, but I find it extremely hard to do on this occasion. Fine. Let's get this over with."


	18. Never Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 579

"I still don't think this is a good idea. I might end up causing real damage to my lady parts with your claws."

Kagome examined the keen-edged nails, skeptical – and more than a little wary.

"Slice off the pointed ends of your claws, miko. They will re-grow in a few hours."

"You really are determined to make me do this."

A sibilant noise spilled past his lips, resembling a 'tsk', but she did as he bade.

"Please hold still. You might feel uncomfortable, but bear with me."

Hands snaked under the plated skirt, slid the panties down his legs. Mellow, careful were her motions. She clasped his left hip as a means of support then stroked the soft flesh, searched for the familiar entrance. Slowly, almost mechanically, Kagome pushed the white cylinder inside her former body. His skin was slick under the pads of her fingers, made malleable with heat and wetness. Awareness surged in her bloodstream with tidal waves, evoked a feeling of vertigo, lightheadedness. It was too intimate, roused sensations, twisted her mind towards notions she would rather never contemplate. If not for the intensity of his gaze, Kagome might have made allowances, fatuous excuses for herself, for her weak will, but she wasn't granted such liberties.

"It is the scent of heat mixed with blood that is causing you unrest, miko. Do not be ashamed if you are aroused."

His features were as strained as hers – perhaps even more. It mollified Kagome, emboldened her.

"It's the female hormones wreaking havoc through your body. Don't take it too hard if you're getting turned on."

Straight-forward, she challenged him with her eyes to deny it, but he kept quiet – until he could no longer withstand it.

"Is it done yet?"

"Yes, I'm done."

It wasn't a lie but not the truth either. Her forehead pressed against his, perspiration on taut skin, but her fingers never ceased their slow penetration, inside out, back and forth.

"Then you can stop."

Sesshōmaru clutched her forearm. His voice was too breathy, his words didn't sound like a command – even if it was.

"I should stop."

More of a rumble, less than a whisper. The scent of blood, the essence of lust, was intoxicating, spiraled inside her, sweltering. She rubbed that bundle of nerves, circled the sensitive tissue, until he gave a gasp, until his body admitted things neither would ever admit.

"Miko – it is enough."

Nails bit into her forearm, ignited roughness and need. Too much. Too soon.

"I…don't know why I can't stop. Make me _stop_."

He was so wet and tight and warm inside that she cursed him for it. Hard flesh against her abdomen, tightness coiled, writhed – twinges of ache, pleas for release.

"Very well."

Low-spoken desire, thick and painful and urgent. Fingers glided against her front, sought to alleviate that throb, to drag her into decadence.

"This is all _your_ fault."

A growl escaped her throat, feral, full of accusation – but a vocalization of _more_. Slim fingers, dexterous – Sesshōmaru knew how to touch her, where to knead, when to press.

"There is no point in placing blame now."

Kagome gave in, hips thrusting, muscles contracting – but only to the call of want, merely that. She made sure he knew that.

"Never again."

Canines sank into his lower lip, pierced the reddened flesh, tasted the lust of his blood, the source of their lapse.

"Never again."

His words tangled with her tongue, drowned under the coalescence of their release.


	19. You'll Stay and Listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 591

Inuyasha had acted as the mediator between the daiyōkai and the miko for almost two days. It was remarkable that he had lasted this long – hence when he exploded, it came as no surprise.

"Alright, that's it! What the _fuck_ is the matter with you two? I ain't your personal slave to come at your beck and call! If you wanna talk to each other then do it on your own!"

A derisive 'hn' was the sole reply he received, his pique outright flaunted by the pair.

"Perhaps it would be best to allow them some space, my friend. I do not know what occurred between Kagome-sama and Sesshōmaru-sama, but I am sure they will not take kindly to your intervention."

Miroku's placation, however stern-uttered, went unheeded.

"I'm done playing peacemaker, monk! I wanna know what happened – and I wanna know _now_!"

"Osuwari."

A mere flutter of lashes, eerily calm, Sesshōmaru was the one to speak first – then Kagome.

"Nothing happened, Inuyasha – _absolutely_ _nothing_. He and I were never on good terms anyway. Is it surprising I don't want to talk to him directly anymore?"

Inuyasha didn't even complain for the wretched command.

"Keh! Sure as hell is, woman! You are acting strange – especially _you_ , Kagome."

His argument met the arc of a thin-shaped brow.

"How so?"

"You won't go within two meters of him, you won't talk to him, you won't even look at him! What the fuck did he do to you?"

"It is quite the opposite, hanyō. The miko is responsible for the awkwardness of our situation."

Both the fact that it was Sesshōmaru who answered and his words themselves furthered the hanyō's bemusement. Full of suspicion, he turned towards Kagome.

"What the fuck did you do to him?"

"Oh that's rich. You created this mess in the first place by asking me to push my fingers inside your vagina."

It was a low hiss, akin to a rattlesnake's sibilance. Sesshōmaru remained unfazed, though his eyes flashed with a nocuous luster.

"I asked you to perform a specific task. You went beyond that of your own volition."

"Um, guys, this is getting weird…" Inuyasha took a few steps back, suddenly wary, cognizant of the tension in the atmosphere. "Maybe you should talk alone, after all?"

"You wanted to know _what the fuck happened_. You'll stay and listen."

Words wouldn't simply suffice for Kagome. Iron-gripped, she dragged the hanyō by the collar as she marched towards the daiyōkai.

"Now, listen here, jerk. You _knew_ how this body would react when I touched your slick skin and the scent hit me hard. _Why_ didn't you warn me? Or better yet _stop_ me?"

Accusation dwelt in the gold of her eyes, shimmered with a ruinous sheen. Inuyasha was the unfortunate victim of her frustration, though. A loud crash and a pain-filled yell rent the air as he was flung to the ground with the force of a mammoth.

"The fuck, wen-"

"Sit."

Another crash, another yell – and a torrid rise in temperature.

"You were aware of how this body would react to the changes, yet you neglected to mention it. You chose not to disclose information as well, miko."

Unlike Inuyasha, the rest of the pack watched at a reasonably safe distance.

"Should we even attempt to rescue him?"

Sango's mirth rivaled Miroku's when she answered.

"I think we should 'sit' this one out."

She then covered Shippō's ears to spare him the shocking conversation – but didn't account for yōkai hearing.

Cheeks flushed, Shippō cringed visibly. "I can still hear _everything_ …"


	20. Freaking Hormones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 581

* * *

Inuyasha had been slammed to the earth enough times to cause him a serious concussion by the time he managed to holler a sentence.

"Enough of this fucking bullshit! You just jerked each other off! No big fucking deal! Just get over it or screw each other, but don't bring the pack in your damn problems!"

A dip of umbrage marred Sesshōmaru's chin.

"Have you suffered a head injury along with your inherent idiocy, hanyō?"

Miroku seized the chance of the slight pause to urge the rest of the pack away from the imminent catastrophe a few feet away.

"I believe we need to replenish our water supply. Let us search for a river, my dear Sango."

The taijiya clutched Kirara in her arms, Shippō climbed on Miroku's shoulder, and the monk led them away decisively. Inuyasha didn't heed their sensible example, worsened the situation with his careless words.

"I'm dead serious, asshole. You have both been acting like bitches in heat. The funny part is that _you_ are in heat and _sh_ _e_ is the bitch now."

"Sit."

Steel-voiced, Sesshōmaru halted the hanyō's interference – and Kagome ended it once and for all as she stomped him to the ground. Inuyasha lost consciousness, fortuitously for him. Without as much as a blink, Kagome began their altercation anew.

"My point is that what happened was an unfortunate accident that could have been avoided if you had been a bit more forthcoming."

Sesshōmaru's countenance was no different.

"The same can be said for yourself, miko. I will not take blame for what I could not control. I do not think you as innocent as you would like others to believe either. You _were_ fully aware of the complications of our predicament."

"Fine. I'll agree that I share _part_ of the blame."

Kagome would accede to this truth, if only that – but she wouldn't be cowered into assuming full responsibility. Even if she _was_ the man in this case.

"But tell me, Sesshōmaru, _why_ didn't you warn me about the effects if you knew? Did you wish to know how I would handle it? Did you want to see what you looked like aroused? Do you enjoy watching yourself climax? Or, maybe, you just wanted to know what a female orgasm feels like?"

A growl, feminine, quite endearing rather than threatening – or so Kagome thought.

"You have no idea what you speak of, woman. Hold your tongue lest I remove it."

She chuckled, towered above him, daunting height and a slice of smirk.

"I would like to see you try."

A tug on her hair, violent, unforeseen, and her lips were smashed against his. Her lips parted, a protest smeared on her tongue – but then _his_ tongue snaked inside, stroked and delved, circled around her own. Blunt teeth dragged across the sleek muscle, grazed the rough skin lightly – then he released her in much the same abrupt manner.

"I could have easily torn off your clever tongue had I wished at this moment."

"Perhaps that idiot was right…"

Kagome wasn't aware of the words until they left her mouth, but it was too late to retract them.

"Freaking hormones."

She cursed, an angry snarl, removed herself from the lure of his lips lest she did something they would both regret.

"Hormones…"

Sesshōmaru repeated the strange word, asked for clarification with his tone.

"The reason we are acting like a pair of teenagers after prom night."

Kagome snorted, but didn't bother to explain her ambiguous answer.


	21. It Was Reflex!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 644

"I'm getting some weird vibes from that mountain. You think Naraku is hiding somewhere in there?"

Many smells, odious, mephitic, inundated the crispness of the mountain air, dismayed Kagome. More adept than the miko in handling foul odors, Inuyasha took in the scents, made his assessment.

"I sure as hell hope so! This doesn't exactly smell like the bastard's miasma, but it's similar. Maybe it's one of his incarnations or something?"

Sesshōmaru inclined his neck in agreement.

"I cannot discern scent in this ningen body, yet the unmistakable aura of an evil presence dwells in that mountain."

A huff came from the miko.

"Be glad you can't smell it for once. It's disgusting…"

It was only through sheer willpower that Kagome moved forward. Atop Kirara, Sango surveyed their surroundings.

"We will take Kirara and scout the area from the sky, Kagome-chan. If we see any danger or anything suspicious, we'll come warn you."

The 'we' included Miroku who made a valiant effort not to caress Sango's backside in the process of mounting the nekomata behind her.

"Take Shippō-chan with you. He'll be safest with your group seeing as we aren't yet accustomed to fighting as a team."

Kagome placed the kit in Sango's lap, ignoring Inuyasha's sneer at her remark.

"Keh, we never got along even when you were in your original bodies, wench. What makes you think we'll turn to fucking buddies just because he looks like you now? I've been getting sat more often these days than in the whole past year!"

Not in the mood for this discussion again, Kagome forced her way into the nimbus of unpleasant scents.

"Whatever, let's just move on."

Half an hour later, the hanyō's yell resounded with distorted echoes over the mountain.

"Watch out, Kagome!"

Kagome stilled, alarmed – then she chuckled in reminiscence. Her former body lay under a crimson tangle of limbs.

"I guess old habits die hard. Well done, Inuyasha. Now that's what I call brotherly love."

"Shuddap, wench! It was reflex!"

"I do not need your feeble assistance, hanyō."

Inuyasha unfurled himself away from his half-brother with a legion of curses. Kagome spared them one last chuckle then focused on the creature who had unleashed that attack on them.

"Well, well… I knew the dark miko wasn't lying when she told me you had fallen under her spell, but this is better than I imagined."

Red lips, red eyes, and vice stood above them.

"Kagura."

Kagome stared at Naraku's female incarnation. Yōki simmered quietly beneath stretched skin – and a growl.

"Now, now, don't get so agitated, little miko. You might lose control and turn into a beast. You wouldn't want that to happen, yes?"

A chuckle, full of mock, and tilted smirk, Kagura gazed at them under her lashes.

"Cut the games, Kagura! We ain't here to play with your sorry ass. Where's the bitch we're looking for? You just said you've met her, so you know where she's hiding. You can tell us on your own or I can force it outta you, but you _will_ be talkin'!"

Inuyasha's snarl, though quite loud, had no effect on Kagura.

"Hm, I honestly do not know where she is. Where do you think dark miko go after they die? I do wonder…"

The wind yōkai tapped a slender finger on her chin with a diabolical smirk – but it would take more than enigmatic words to nonplus Kagome.

"You're lying – she can't be dead… If she were then her spell should have ended."

Lyrical laughter sprung from Kagura's throat. Her subsequent words stirred the trio's despair.

"That distasteful woman… She tried to sway Naraku's will to her whims. I could not have that, now could I? I assure you, little human, she is certainly dead. I personally made sure of that."

_Now what?_

The silent question passed through everyone's mind – but no answer came.


	22. Wouldn't You Like to Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 682

"I see you require proof. Very well. I had planned this all along, anyway."

Coquettish taunt, artfully coy, Kagura flicked her wrist with a smooth motion – and everyone stilled. Kagome was the one to vociferate what both she and the men feared.

"No – it can't be."

It was barely a whisper, swallowed by the wind. Inuyasha stifled a heavy curse. Sesshōmaru stared at the grotesque sight.

"Isn't she lovely? I much prefer her dead than alive."

Kagura's laughter was unpalatable, more horrid than even the animated corpse of the dark miko.

"You evil bitch! Now you've done it! Prepare to join her!"

Unsheathing Tetsusaiga, Inuyasha lunged towards her, but a gust of wind engulfed them, separated them from their target. Kagura took to the skies, avoiding the hanyō's strike with ease.

"Fool! She will serve nicely as your opponent. Allow me to watch the fight from up here. Now that Sesshōmaru is trapped in a ningen body, I have _nothing_ to fear."

"Inuyasha." Kagome had to raise her voice to solicit the hanyō's focus. "Take care of that… _thing_. I'll deal with her."

Inuyasha made to protest but rethought it. He glared at Kagura one last time then shifted positions to battle the advancing corpse.

"Do not lose your composure, miko. It is what the wind witch expects."

Having given his advice, Sesshōmaru chose to participate in the fight against the dark miko.

"Oh I know. Trust me – I know…"

Kagome laughed. It was a clenching of jaws, a vibration within her chest, more action than sound. Did Kagura truly think she retained no power in this form, no control, like an imbecile? The mere notion was ludicrous, unshackled the howl Kagome had chained in her throat to spare her company's ears. A peal of aggression, it reaped motion, instilled dread, spoke of primal dominance, of savagery, and Kagura paled, but did not recoil, held her composure.

"Che, don't try to act tough. I know you can't use his powers. You're just a little girl trapped inside a yōkai's body. A weak fool will be a weak fool – no matter the body."

The time for words had come to an end – a flick of Kagome's wrist, not quite an imitation of Sesshōmaru's grace but close. A string of viridian wound around Kagura's neck, twisted and constricted, deprived her of breath. It cauterized her senses, ripped them from her nerves, gorged on them.

"How di-"

Within seconds, Kagura lay on the ground, convulsed with manic spasms. Her struggles only tightened the threads of yōki – and she hissed. Agony. Paroxysm. Yōki enveloped her, writhed, coiled around her in rows of searing flesh and scales – a living, slithering serpent. Skin flayed, burned, blood seeped away, flowed outwards – a slow hemorrhage.

"You won't…get…away…with this…"

Fury clogged Kagura's throat. She sputtered, chocked on her own saliva and blood. Kagome cast down a hard stare, regarded the sprawled female before her feet.

"I don't think you have to worry about us. You should be more concerned with your well being at the moment."

Poison dripped from the tips of Kagome's claws, acidic threat, emphasized her point.

"Way to go, wench! Those damn lessons weren't for nothing after all!"

Inuyasha's grimace was telling, didn't need elaboration. Kagome would have to thank him for enduring lash after lash while she trained with the yōki whip later, but she had more pressing matters to address at the moment. For one, the decaying shell of the dark miko was nowhere to be found.

"What happened to the dark miko?"

"She ceased all movement when you incapacitated the wind yōkai. She is no more than a corpse now."

Sesshōmaru could wait no longer. He slashed the kazeyōkai with a glare of frost, demanded answers.

"Are there other dark miko capable of lifting this curse, woman?"

Kagura more frothed than spoke in her condition, not that she offered information either way.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

A snarl of impatience split the noxious wind – Inuyasha snapped.

"I told ya before, bitch! You are goin' to talk whether you like it or not! Now start talkin'!"


	23. That's Really Helpful!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 619

Kagome uncurled the yōki coils from Kagura's neck to allow her freedom of speech, but the threat lay heavy in the gold of her eyes. Spasmodic fits of coughing came from Kagura's throat as she labored for respiration. When she could take in breath without blood congesting her lungs, she only gave partial truths and elusion.

"Che, I don't know of any other dark miko who could reverse the curse. Naraku favored the slut because of her unique abilities."

"If you're lying to us, I'll do more than ruffle your feathers, bitch!"

Fangs bared, Inuyasha growled a mere breadth's away from her face. Chin held high, she didn't shy away, but that changed when Sesshōmaru dragged a reiki-pulsing fingertip across her cheekbone.

"Tell us where Naraku is hiding."

Kagura hissed in pain and fear – of Sesshōmaru's persecution if she didn't talk, of Naraku's retribution if she did talk.

"He'll kill me if I breathe a word of his whereabouts."

"That's it! Start talkin' or you'll taste the steel of my Tetsusaiga!"

Sword clutched tightly in his grip, Inuyasha swung in a half-arc, with halved-power, but Kagome blocked the path of his attack. A twist of her wrist and the yōki sizzled and dispersed as if it had never been unleashed.

"Calm down, Inuyasha. She is cooperating in her own way. She didn't deny knowing where Naraku is even if she didn't reveal the place."

Sullenly, with almost child-like petulance, Inuyasha fumed.

"What's the point if she ain't talkin', wench?"

"I can't tell you where he is, but I have information of interest to you."

Kagura's bargain was met with intrigue, with silence, until Sesshōmaru motioned for her to proceed.

"Speak, woman."

"You have to promise me you'll let me go first."

"I give you my word of honor. You will be released to return to your master – or wherever you wish to go."

Sesshōmaru's avowal rang clear and true, dissipated the shadows of suspicion in Kagura's cerise irises.

"Naraku has always been interested in curses and whatnot. He has gathered many scrolls about different curses and their remedies. I was never interested in them, but I stole a peek once in a while since I was bored anyway. There was a specific scroll telling of the exchanging of souls."

Silence prevailed once more, though of a different kind. Mistrust wafted into the vapor-tainted wind, and Kagura chuckled.

"What? You thought I could not read or something? Don't compare me to an illiterate brute like you."

Her insult was a spit of saliva and mockery, hurled at the hanyō's face, waking his wrath anew.

"Why you…"

Inuyasha took a menacing step towards her, claws raised, yet it was Sesshōmaru who held him back this time with a tilt of his neck and a nod in Kagura's way.

"Continue."

"You need a special concoction of herbs. You must submerge yourselves in water mixed with those herbs according to the soul exchanging ritual described in the scroll. That is as far as I can remember. If you wish to know more details, you must get that scroll from Naraku."

A shrug of nonchalance and lips thinned. Kagome appraised the wind witch, knew she would not disclose more no matter what incentives they gave her.

"That's really helpful!"

Voice gruff, coated in thick irony, Inuyasha snorted.

"I told you wh-"

Kagura never concluded her sentence. Eyes wide, horror-claimed, she clutched at her chest with fretful fingers, knuckles white, spasm-ridden.

"What's wrong, wench?"

The painful twinge in her features spoke of felt anguish, too real. Inuyasha made to grab her arm, shake her out of it – but her body gave before he could reach her, bloodless lips and moans and ashes.

"Nar-ak-ku – m-my…h-heart –"


	24. Namu Amida Butsu

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 228

Everyone stared, shell-shocked, as the wind witch began to disintegrate into iridescent powder and wisps of wind right before their eyes. Kagome felt all moisture dry in her mouth at their foe's demise, the sting of pity behind the membranous surface of her eyes. Kagura might have been an enemy, but no one deserved such a death. Sesshōmaru's expression was unreadable, statuesque, jaw clenched with tension, with dips of disapproval. It was Inuyasha who ruptured the silence with a nasty curse, burying his sword in the ground with force.

"What the fuck just happened!? This wasn't the first time the traitorous bitch betrayed him! Why kill her _now_?"

Outrage colored his voice, morphed it into growl-like sounds.

"The information she revealed must be vital. The wind sorceress tested Naraku's patience further than she should have."

Sesshōmaru gave a shake of his head, imperceptible.

"Then that means she wasn't lying…"

Kagome's whisper was too low, more of a question, less of a statement, a distraction from the vain death she had witnessed.

"I believe so, yes."

The daiyōkai nodded, more curt than usual.

"Keh, rest in peace, wench. You're free from that bastard now at least."

Inuyasha picked up the feathers she always wore in her hair and released them in the billows of the wind – and Kagome prayed for her passing.

"Namu amida butsu. Rest in peace, Kagura."


	25. What Have They Done to You!?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 446

They made camp for lunch while Kagome shared the news with the rest of the pack. Sango shook her head once the miko finished her recital of all events, spoke with a sigh.

"I guess that means we're back to square one."

Inuyasha shrugged, more interested in his ramen bowl than the unaccounted hindrance.

"We just have to make that bastard spill where he's hiding that scroll before we take his head off. It's nothing much."

A squawk sundered the skies then, worry-filled cacophony, ended all further discussions. They all turned toward the ear-splitting sound.

"Sesshōmaru-sama!"

Jaken and Rin, astride Ah-Un, were descending into the midst of their camp.

"Jaken."

Sesshōmaru's monotone was his sole acknowledgement to his retainer when the twin-headed dragon landed. A screech came from the shōyōkai, haughty and indignant.

"How dare you address me with such familiarity, filthy ningen?"

Disregarding the daiyōkai without a second glance, he rushed towards the former body of his lord. Kagome arched a brow in true Sesshōmaru fashion, but didn't cease her cooking.

"Sesshōmaru-sama!" Jaken bawled with disbelief, the ochre of his eyes muddled with tears. "What have they done to you!?"

"Silence, Jaken," was all Kagome said, and Jaken complied promptly.

She heaved a sigh then shed some light into the imp's confusion. Jaken listened, nodded, made loud sounds, pompous gestures – and, finally, he mulled over Kagome's words. Conflicted, not knowing which being he should address, he spoke to both.

"Is this true, my Lord?"

"Cease your incessant whining, Jaken."

Despite the feminine hues, the command was reminiscent in tone and presence of the daiyōkai. It took a mere fragment of a second for Jaken to accept reality and bow deeply. Rin had no such qualms, seemed to have recognized Sesshōmaru from the start – if that was even possible.

"Here, Rin-chan. I'm sure you're hungry."

Kagome smiled at the human girl sitting quietly all this time, offered her a ramen bowl – but her smile faltered once she took note of the hesitation in Rin's features, the nervousness in her posture.

"What's wrong, Rin-chan?"

A hush of words, mumbled, came out of Rin's mouth. It was uttered so terribly low, teeming with shyness, that Kagome couldn't make out what the question was at first, had to ask Rin for reiteration.

"C-can Rin hug Kagome-sama?"

"Of course, Rin-chan!"

Laughing softly, Kagome swept her up, relished the girl's giggles of delight, and winked at Sesshōmaru – but he didn't seem to mind either way.


	26. Guess I Have No Choice Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 801

Kagome's supplies had been depleted half-way back to the well. Miroku had proposed to venture into a human village to purchase basic supplies. Inuyasha had conceded after a simple 'sit' command and was now waiting patiently beside Kagome at the outskirts of the village for their companions' return. All yōkai – not including Shippō and Kirara – had opted against stepping into the ningen village for obvious reasons. Kagome had been pacing, back and forth, racked with agitation.

"I hope nothing wrong happens."

"Keh, nothin' will happen, wench. Go chew some grass with the dragon or something and stop your whining."

Clinging to his anger after that 'sit' command, Inuyasha made for a grumpy company – and Kagome wasn't feeling gracious at the moment.

"Careful, Inuyasha. I think Au-Un would gladly chew on your ears – and I'm inclined to let him."

A nasal snort resounded. "If you're so damn worried about the asshole then just go stalk him already!" The hanyō then walked away with a barrage of curses.

Kagome paced for a while longer, but her worry only grew as more time passed and her pack did not return. Half-impatient, half-relieved, she gave in, headed towards the village, however surreptitiously. Hiding in a dark alley, the miko suppressed her yōki to the lowest level possible then scented the air, searched for her companions. It appeared they had decided to split to procure the needed items more swiftly. Trusting Miroku and Sango to be fine on their own since they were adept in dealing with such matters, she focused her attention on Sesshōmaru. It was the right decision. Time and again, she witnessed a most appalling occurrence. Several males tried to proposition the daiyōkai with lewd suggestions – and _more_. Kagome should have accounted for this complication, should have warned Sesshōmaru beforehand, but she had forgotten about it. Inuyasha usually accompanied her when they entered a human village. It lessened such gestures from males – but the hanyō wasn't here now. _Kagome_ was.

Cold glares would deter most, but not all, certainly not the bolder and raunchier of the bunch – and Sesshōmaru wasn't particularly intimidating in his female guise. Kagome watched the various scenes unfold, half-amused, half-irritated, until one of them dared to lay his dirty hands on Sesshōmaru. The human was tall, bulky, with short, spiky hair, seemingly accustomed on having his way with women – and being rough while doing so. Sesshōmaru had not taken his sword either. His attire alone drew enough unwanted attention as it was. Kagome would have to intervene – Miroku and Sango were far away by this time.

_Guess I have no choice then._

She sprang into action. In less than a second, the man's filthy hand was clasped in her leaden grip and Sesshōmaru released.

"What's a damn yōkai doing in a ningen village? The whore is mine, so back off!"

Uncivilized, heavy-accented, the ruffian barked and glared at Kagome – but then he licked his lips, dragged his beady eyes over Kagome's body, and clutched his groin with emphasis.

"Heh, now that I have a better look, you're a pretty boy if I've ever seen one. How about it? Wanna have some fun with me and the wench? I'll treat you real good…"

Blood seethed, circulated like hot lava, rang in Kagome's ears – then the crude sound of bones breaking, human shrieks, rage and agony. When Kagome spoke, her voice had lowered to mere rumbles, animal-clad, visceral articulation.

" _Never_ appear before me again, scum. I will _not_ be as merciful next time. Dare to touch _my_ woman again and I _will_ kill you in the most gruesome of ways."

The burly man scampered away, cradling his injured wrist, but Kagome's mind was in conflict. Instincts warred with logic, wrecked havoc inside her veins. She wanted to give chase, maim the man – but she also needed _something else_. The scent of woman alloyed with the word _mine_ , urged her to seek, to take, to –

Her arm coiled, shackled the source of _that_ fragrance, brought it close, much too close – and she inhaled. It didn't matter, nothing mattered, nothing but the woman, warm skin under her tongue, against her teeth, pulsing and burning and –

"Miko."

The scent was speaking, vibrations on the flat of her tongue, desirous. One long, sultry lick, Kagome swallowed the words, laved their sweetness, tasted the heat of woman and wetness.

"You can –" Words, sliding on her palate, tangling with her tongue. "– stop scent-marking me if –" Teeth grazed against soft, sleek muscle, sank into lips, savored the nectar dwelling inside. "– you have calmed down."

Blood welled, glided down her throat, awakened her – _blood_! _Gods, what am I – what…_

"Inuyōkai instincts."

Melting against her lips, the answer was husky, seared her flesh – and she stepped back, relinquished her hold on – _Sesshōmaru... What have I done?_


	27. Lemme Put It to You This Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 455

When Kagome returned, Inuyasha took one whiff of her, and exploded in bouts of laughter.

"I – I can't believe it… You…you fucking scent-marked him! This is _so_ priceless!"

Kagome's patience was coming undone like silk threads, thin, breakable.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

Though amused, the hanyō was aware of the threat in her voice, the unsaid _I will hurt you if you won't be serious._

"He didn't explain this stuff to you?"

A wry sneer curved her lips, fire lapped at the gold of her irises.

"What do you think?"

It was too much. Inuyasha could help neither his laughter nor his penchant for bad puns.

"Figures the asshole didn't have the balls to tell you. Oh, wait, _you_ are the one with the balls now either way."

"Inuyasha." Poison dripping. Grass sizzling. "Talk."

"Jeez, woman, the more you stay in his body the more that stick goes up your ass. If we don't switch you back soon enough, it might be too fucking late…" He stared at the charred earth, gulped, nearly cringed. "First off, did anything unusual happen at the village? Did anyone threaten Sesshōmaru or try to attack him and such?"

A nod, seething restriction, bloodheat. The mere thought of that bastard was enough to rouse her wrath, make her seek his trail, finish what she started.

"Several human males tried to get him to sleep with them if that counts?"

Inuyasha nodded, speculated the sequence of events.

"Lemme guess. You felt your blood boil damn hot at the sight, jumped in like a fucking dog in shining armor, and saved the man-damsel in distress?"

"Yes."

Succinct, weary, Kagome wished for this conversation to be over, for Inuyasha to finally make his point – and he did.

"Lemme put it to you this way. You put a claim on him 'cause you obviously dig him."

But it wasn't what Kagome would have liked or expected to hear.

"I – what?"

Inuyasha all but shrugged, as if her reactions were as natural as the rustling of leaves or the dew after the rain.

"It's inuyōkai instincts – plain and simple. Dogs are pretty much exclusive and territorial when it comes to their chew toys. You're into the guy, wench more likely, so you made sure everybody else knew that and backed off."

Still, she didn't wish to acknowledge it, pressed him for a different answer – in vain.

"What do you mean I'm into him?"

"I mean you wanna be _into_ him! Fuck, don't make me break it down for you! How much more do I need to explain?"

Cheeks crimson-stained, the hanyō cursed, brushed her off – he walked away but not before dealing one last blow.

"Oh, and now _he_ knows that, too!"


	28. Do Not Mock Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 677

The journey back to the village had been uneventful in all manners and aspects. There had been neither assaults nor storms to delay them, but no conversation either besides mundane, trivial things. It had been nerve-racking, more exhausting than if all those things had happened at once. When they finally reached the village, Kagome felt as if she would keel over and pass out at any given minute. The rest of their pack didn't look much better. Except for the children – but the miko could bet the reason for that had more to do with excitement and less with stamina. Inuyasha had traveled to her era for modern supplies. Kagome was not inclined to let her mother see her as a male yōkai – or, worse, her grandfather. She wasn't even certain that she _could_ travel to her time in this body – and she wouldn't like to test that theory. Inuyasha would have to suffice for now – so long as he gave her mother the suitable excuse they had crafted.

"Kagome-sama, we are heading to Kaede-sama's hut for supper. It is useless to await Inuyasha by the well. He will return soon."

Kagome smiled a warm smile at the monk, full of gratitude, but declined his offer.

"You can go ahead, Miroku-san."

Miroku spared her a last glance, half-invitation, half-weariness, but didn't insist. With slow, unhurried steps, Kagome approached the Bone Eater's well, came to sit beside Sesshōmaru, under the cloud-woven sky.

"We need to talk."

A slight tilt, a slant of his neck, Sesshōmaru gazed at her under curled lashes. The whiteness of his neck, the slope of his back, the fullness of his cleavage, the scent of woman, intoxication smeared on skin – Kagome was aware of many things, _too_ aware. Intrinsic lure, undeniable, unwanted, she drew closer, leaned into his side, breathed him in. If Sesshōmaru noticed, he didn't show it – but she _knew_ he did.

"Regarding the scent-mark?"

She gave him a nod, inhaled deeper, felt the stirrings of something dark, primal, fires in her bloodstream, electrons in her nerves. _Heat_. Yes – she had a name for it, but nothing else, no beginning, no middle, no end.

"Inuyasha explained to me what it means, why an inuyōkai would feel the urge for scent-mark, so you don't have to go into details. What I wanted to say is that, instincts or no instincts, I don't want to be _into_ you."

Kagome hadn't meant to use the hanyō's words, but she found herself at a loss, picked the first thing that flashed in her mind. Being near him was having strange effects on her, slow ignition, fast electricity.

"That is fortunate."

His proclivity for mockery, the huskiness of his voice, inflamed those sensations, fed them raw fruits of provocation – and Sesshōmaru must have known. This was _his_ body, originally. Kagome couldn't fathom why he baited the Hunter inside her, why he kindled the coals of that sentient desire – but he needed to _stop_. It was making her restless, aroused, brought her closer to the brink. Breath by breath. Little by little.

"I thought you possessed some measure of intelligence, but you seem _unable_ to grasp our situation. I will make it very _simple_ for you. Because of your messed up instincts and male urges, I'm liable to attack you in your sleep without _my_ knowledge or _your_ consent."

She slashed him with her eyes, gold-edged daggers.

"I thought you possessed some measure of control, but you seem _unable_ to tether those urges. It is but animal impulses, woman. Rise above them – unless you consider yourself lower than a mere animal."

"Do _not_ mock me."

Even as Kagome growled the warning, forced it past clenched teeth, she knew it was too late. She was more animal than human, more male than female, in this form – and she wanted _him_ , his slender neck, his arced collarbones, low and lower still, flesh hidden beneath white cotton. Fabric torn, buttons ripped, she buried herself in the swell of his breasts, licked and nipped, rumbled and pleaded.

" _Stop –_ or make _me_ stop."


	29. Tell Me What to Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 636

"Calm yourself."

It was a warning, an order – and _something_ else entirely, temptation vociferated. Kagome siphoned the sounds, devoured the luxuriant vowels, the supple consonants – tongue laving the underside of his neck, tasting the pulsing heat, urging his vocal cords to birth more sounds, _more_ –

"Do you think I wouldn't have done as such if I could? You're driving me mad…"

 _Mad – with desire…_ Words spoken through touch, through taste, hands on soft thighs, stroking, nails welting peels of flesh, tongue on sinuous bones, slathering wetness on strips of skin – sultry insinuations. The more she spoke to his body the more _that_ scent spilled and thickened and sweetened. It whetted her senses, inundated each breath she took, seeped inside, like white-hot fire licking her from the inside out – until she could withstand it no more, until it burned her alive.

"Your _scent_ is… _what_ is this?"

A thrust of lean hips, she moved against him, sought the clutch of his body, the cleft between his thighs, that warm, lust-kissed place – and the scent grew stronger still.

"Arousal."

It was a hiss of a moan, a sound unlike all others, saturated with his scent. _Again_ – she needed to hear it again, yet there were questions spiraling in her mind, cool and sharp, memories of once-felt want, of liquid ecstasy. She had tasted him, drank the pleasure of his body as she gave it pleasure – but this scent couldn't compare to that one. It was lighter, slinked on her skin like melted cinnamon.

"It isn't the same…not like –"

She needn't have said more – Sesshōmaru understood the silent connotations, solved the mysteries of flesh and moisture.

"Female arousal is…less potent – but sweeter."

"I can feel it, like honey on my tongue… I want to taste it so badly…"

Muscles strained, spasms in her abdomen, pressure, tight, so tight, building and rising and swelling, high and low, in dips and crevices. A growl slithered beneath strung skin, clamored to be released, and she sank her teeth in the juncture of his shoulder and his neck, drowned it against slick flesh.

"This will not end if you simply have a taste. Did the hanyō not tell you that?"

She hearkened to his voice, to the haze and smokiness of it, but barely made sense of his words. Kagome couldn't think, couldn't piece the fragments of thought in this matrix of sensation, this labyrinth of stimuli. Distance, she needed distance, to _not feel_ – the proof of woman beneath her, the curves, the undulations, the swelter. Slow, loathsome ascent, she severed body contact, relinquished perspiration and rapture, only the blue of his eyes, turned silver with lust, only that she refused to abandon.

"Tell me what?"

She smeared the words on the slant of his lips, teased with proximity, with the tip of her tongue – but gave him nothing more.

"Scent-mark is the first step in claiming a female as a mate. Yōkai of power are attracted to strong females. The urge to complete the bond will only intensify if we give in to the urges. Do you understand?"

There was no shadow of lie, no misinterpretation – her erection, stiff, drawn up against her stomach, attested to that. Kagome hadn't succumbed into animal instincts, into madness so deeply yet, but it was only a matter of time, a flick of claws, shredded fabric, a twist of hips – all it would take.

"Yes – but I…can't stop. Tell me what to do – _please_."

It might have been the _please_ , or perhaps the fact that she ground against him, involuntary compulsion, but his tongue stroked hers, only the tip, only what she allowed.

"There is nothing to be done. If you cannot control the impulse…it will devour you."

Pulsations, hums of power, light stuck her, flung Kagome on her back. Sesshōmaru made her stop, this time.


	30. Alright, Let's Get Moving!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 197

The next morning brought heavy dew, an unexpected visitor – and, with him, hope.

"Greetings, Inuyasha-sama. Your blood is as delicious as ever."

Myōga's usual greeting received a slap and a curse. Kagome offered her palm as a landing place for the flea yōkai.

"It's been a long time, Myōga-jiichan."

Too terrified to even move, Myōga lay motionless, mouth agape and trepidation in his eyes.

"S-Sesshōm-maru-sama!"

"It's Kagome. Sesshōmaru and I were cursed and exchanged bodies as a result, Myōga-jiichan."

The old flea accepted the news with a swiftness Kagome wouldn't have expected – but perhaps the fact that she added a suffix to his name helped move things along faster. That and, apparently, he had urgent news to deliver.

"I bring great news of Naraku's whereabouts, Inuyasha-sama."

Self-satisfied, Myōga grinned and strutted around on Kagome's palm, relishing the attention gathered. Inuyasha was the first to howl with joy.

"Finally some good news!"

With a wrinkled smile, Myōga bowed to Kagome and jumped on the hanyō's shoulder.

"He has taken refugee in a noble's mansion in the northeast. I will guide you there myself."

"Alright, let's get moving!"

No one complained about the hanyō's gruesome pace tendencies this time.


	31. I'm Not Letting You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 576

Gathered outside the gates of the castle Myōga had led them to, the pack halted. The scents were overbearing, verified the flea's information – Naraku dwelt inside the ominous shiro.

"Naraku's miasma is everywhere, but I can't sense anyone inside."

"We can't let our guard down. The bastard could be hiding and waiting to ambush us. The kids are staying here."

Inuyasha's voice came in muffled sounds, his only warning before he unleashed a Wind Scar and dashed inside. Kagome shook her head, placed Shippō and Rin on Ah-Un.

"That idiot should take his own advice…"

"You will guard the pups, Jaken."

The imp gave a loud 'hai' then swung his staff in front of the dragon at imaginary foes. Brow raised, unimpressed, Kagome stared at Jaken's antics with doubt.

"Are you _sure_ he can perform this duty?"

"Ah-Un will guard them. Jaken will keep them occupied," Sesshōmaru said simply.

 _Jaken will entertain them,_ was what Kagome heard in reality. She laughed softly, commended his subtle method of manipulating the small yōkai into doing his bidding – whatever that may be – then followed her companions inside.

"This castle is enormous. I believe it would be wise to split into two parties. It amplifies our chances to encounter Naraku or his minions sooner."

Miroku's voice sounded alien, distorted by the gas mask Sango had lent him, but Kagome heard every word, gave a nod.

"I agree, Miroku-san. We will search the left side while you and Sango-chan search the right. If you chance upon Inuyasha on your way, try to knock some sense into him."

A slew of traps could be lying in wait all around them – and Inuyasha always fell for even the easiest of them. Kagome spared a sigh for Inuyasha's carelessness then entered the maze of chambers awaiting them inside the enormous shiro. A strange scent, drenched in decay, old blood mixed with body odors, assaulted her sinuses, the most pungent of the smells.

"There is a peculiar smell…it's coming from below. It smells nasty like…rotting flesh?"

"I sense various sources of yōki beneath us, yet they feel faint, not whole. Shiro such as this one have secret passages leading to the dungeon or escape tunnels in case of emergencies. Where is the scent the strongest, miko?"

Sesshōmaru shared his discoveries, unfavorable implications. Kagome inferred his train of thought, set to do her task with renewed vigor. Distaste gathered in lines on her features, in curled lips, but she braved on. The sooner they found Naraku's hideout the sooner this ordeal would end.

"That way."

Inconspicuous, imbued with yōki, there was a square door carved on the wooden floor. Sesshōmaru purified the malevolent aura, motioned for Kagome to lift the heavy bar. No stairs, no ladder, only fathomless void, nothingness – and those foul scents.

"What do you see, miko?"

Granting him a vocal reply would be a waste of words. Muscles clenched, coiled, dragged him against her body – steel under skin. A waft of woman, sweet spices, whispers of arousal, known, unforgotten. Then she dived into the unknown, into the lair of the spider.

"This horrid smell is much more potent now."

The odious scent acted as a beacon, navigated Kagome without even use of other senses.

"I can walk on my own, miko."

Perhaps, perhaps not – but Kagome's grip only tightened, pressed more, an onslaught of restriction, full of _I'm not letting you go_ and inflexibility – his scent ripened, swallowed the toxicity, ravened her senses.


	32. The Treasure of All Treasures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 749

Kagome came to a stop when they reached a large, cave-like space. The gold of her eyes eclipsed with disgust as she took in the horrific sight spread before her. Legions of yōkai lay on the ground – slow degeneration, hideous decay. A jigsaw of eyes, polychromous, slit pupils, venereal, and voices, animal-like sounds, guttural – a den of beasts, a peal of torture. They writhed, slithered, pleaded for an end, to be released from their suffering by any means – and Sesshōmaru gave it to them. Light surged and swelled, conquered the hellish place, purified everything in its passing.

"Naraku must have sensed our coming and took flight to avoid a confrontation in his newly evolved body."

It was a statement, defied question, but it allayed neither Kagome's frustration nor her lament.

"If we could have arrived a few hours earlier, we could have caught him in a vulnerable state."

Sesshōmaru surveyed their surrounding with keen eyes, searched for an iota of hope, but found nothing. Perhaps the taijiya and the monk would be more fortunate on this account – and he told the miko as much.

"Let us reunite with the rest of the pack for now. We must discuss our next course of action. Naraku would have left traces behind – there might still be a chance to follow after him if we move now."

* * *

Dark passages, terrible, slumbering mysteries, brimming with creatures unknown to mortal ken, always watching, never approaching. Miroku and Sango always watched, never approached either – only moved forward. This castle whispered past grandeur, lavishness beneath dilapidation, hidden secrets, phantoms of life once flourished, swallowed by death, bound by yōki. Then they came upon _that_ chamber – endless shelves, overflowing with scrolls. The library.

"We are in luck, my lovely Sango. By the looks of this, I think we found our objective."

Eyes wide, awe-struck, Sango perused the scrolls, the shelves, the magnitude of information, of neglected erudition.

"This place is huge… It would take us days to skim through everything here. We're not even sure if the ritual would be described in one of them – or if it even exists."

Through the dissatisfaction, the phantom exhaustion, Miroku could hear notes of excitement in her voice. Sango would love to seclude herself in this maze of ink and paper, read every single word, relish the old-forgotten knowledge. He chuckled, amused.

"I guess we have no other choice but to find out the hard way."

Most scrolls recorded the history of the castle and its clan, some contained remedies for various maladies, and a select few spells or myths. Being vigil of an enemy attack distorted reality, perception of time, made it feel like days passed – but it was no more than an hour. When Miroku laughed, the sound mellowed the silence, glided across flaxen-hued paper, over Sango's skin, more husky than it was, full of implications. Sango peered at him over her scroll, brow half-raised, smirk half-formed on her lips. For Miroku to laugh, despite the danger lurking in corners and crevices, to make that kind of expression, to drag his eyes over her shape, linger on dips, on swells of flesh – the man was shameless…but he knew desire, perhaps too much of it. And, when they were alone, in the privacy of their skin, Sango would allow some liberties, of touch and tongue, of wetness and lips.

"Did you find something, monk?"

His half-grin burgeoned with sensualism, with things done in the dark, spoke of perspiration and slick skin.

"I found the treasure of all treasures."

"Treasure?"

Even as she asked, even as she sidled up to his side, took a peek of his _treasure_ , Sango knew what she would find.

"Pervert."

She chuckled, felt the bulk of his frame against her back, body warmth and the scent of male. His skin burned hot against her – hotter the closer he pressed. His breath seared the shell of her ear, sensitive skin, close, too close, fire wreathed around her neck. Teeth sank into her lower lip, her arms lifted, buried her desire, her face into the pages of the ribbon-bound book – and she moved her hips against his, gave in to temptation…just a little.

"Is this the Sengoku Jidai's version of Kama Sutra?"

Neither Sango nor Miroku had spoken. It was a male voice, amused, a slight tease – and painstakingly familiar. Sango stilled, lowered the book, met gold and blue and mortification – and Miroku cursed. It would be a long time since Sango would allow such liberties again.


	33. You Better Pray This Works

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 437

The library was cluttered with awkwardness, strewn with scrolls. Ever since Sesshōmaru and Kagome had joined them, Sango hadn't uttered more than murmurs of self-chastisement, but she couldn't not speak now. In her hands, she clutched the composition for the balsam of Kagome's salvation.

"I think I found the spell we're looking for, Kagome-chan, but it's –"

Stiff, filled with discomfiture, Sango stared at the miko, refused to divulge more – she passed the scroll to Kagome.

"Agrimonia, ashitaba, more herbs, brimstone, yes, we can find these easily –"

Herbs, oils, some easy to find, others harder, but that wasn't the reason Kagome halted her tongue – the ritual itself was. Kagome read over the lines, once more, imbibed the words, the precipitance of heat, of blood, of things to come.

"What is the matter, miko?"

Low, soft-spoken, his voice soaked through her, seeped into her skin, slow-spread obsession. It enhanced all sensation, that decadent burn, that laceration of nerves. She never realized when she lunged towards him, pressed him against the wall, addictive suffocation. Only when his scent lanced through her, like cinnamon aflame, did she come to her senses. It was intoxicating, was making her delirious at such close proximity. A sliding of skin, an acceleration of heartbeats, a liquefaction of need. Shivers smeared on her skin, tingles surged through her body. There was only one thing left to say – and one to imply.

"You better pray this works."

_Before I mark you._

Canines teased, slid against the column of his neck, high and low, light, but heavy with promises – of sinking, tearing into flesh – then she pushed the scroll into his hands, released him.

"I'm going to search for that reckless idiot."

The scroll lay wrinkled in Sesshōmaru's grip. Miroku was the first to speak, to break the palpable tension.

"Did we miss something, Sango?"

Sango grimaced, as if she had bitten into something sour, then cast a glance towards her undoing, that lust-glutted book concealed in the folds of Miroku's robes.

"Your…treasure might come in handy. Apparently, they need to bathe in the mix of herbs while they are _joined_ in a certain manner for the soul exchange ritual."

Inconspicuous, implicitly worded, she huffed, glared at him. Miroku had no such qualms when understanding dawned on him.

"Ah, I see. Yes – it makes sense. To unmake such a powerful spell without the caster would require extreme measures – however pleasurable."

He intoned the last word, stroked Sango's ears with his lips, murmurs of pleasure between them, but Sango drew back, still affected, eyes the color of hardened soil, full of _no_ and resolution. Miroku cursed again.


	34. Let's Hope I Won't Have to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 433

A week passed since their return to the village after a fruitless search for Naraku. Sleepless nights and ceaseless days, full of _what ifs_ and restiveness and tumult. Kagome had assigned the task of gathering the ingredients for the ritual to Miroku and Kaede – and had wrapped herself in a cocoon of isolation and turbulent thoughts. As if sensing her unease, everyone granted her pardon, gave her space – even Sesshōmaru – but it was not to last.

"The necessary ingredients for the reversal of the curse have been gathered, miko. What is the reason for your hesitation?"

Perhaps the location was to blame, the Bone Eater's well, once the means of connection, now of separation, or perhaps the blatant reproach in his voice, sharp, cutting – but Kagome felt the sting of acerbity on her tongue, dipped her words in it.

"The fact that I might end up mated to an asshole."

"Your worries are merely that, miko. If it comes to pass then we shall unmake it."

Calm and cool and quiet – he didn't take her bait, but it didn't matter either way. His words were more important than his poise, both lessened and amplified her misdoubt.

"A mating bond can be…unmade?"

It was but a whisper, expectation donned in fear – fear of it being untrue, a chimera to soften her worries. Sesshōmaru nodded with such assurance, such certainty that she almost laughed.

"It can be done. I am not aware of the details, yet my late sire found a way to break his bond with my mother in order to mate Inuyasha's mother."

Kagome did laugh then – but it was cusp-edged, layered with thin ice.

"Now you tell me?"

His gaze fed on the frost of her voice, took it within, pale-blue tundra.

"I did not mention it because I thought we could avoid that complication. I will not overestimate your power of will in the future."

"See to it that you don't." Ice for ice. Taunt for taunt. "Who knows the specifics?"

"Mother should know – or Bokusenō. If you are unable to halt the mating instincts, we shall visit them."

Ill-favor coated his voice, his features, everything. Kagome arched a brow, relief in her posture, smirk playing on her lips.

"Not fond of mother dearest, are you?"

"Speak those words after you meet her."

If she strained her ears, ears that missed nothing, Kagome could hear satisfaction, intrigue. It appeared Sesshōmaru would have her acquainted with his mother if only to suffer the woman's wiles. She shook her head, decided not to return this particular challenge.

"Let's hope I won't have to."


	35. Shall We Begin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 343

The earthly smell of oaks, the honeyed fragrance of spring, saturated the night wind, pulsed, apace with the river's hums. Only the moon's strokes reached the secluded bank downhill where the river split the ancient forests, far away from the villages of humans. Morning rain had softened the earth, moistened the nature with the touch of petrichor. Potent. Arousing. Kagome breathed in the temptation, the telluric aromas, heard the siren song, the water's snares; she allowed herself to be seduced, induced to need – then her eyes sought Sesshōmaru, made her cravings known.

"Shall we begin?"

It was rhetorical, spoken for the mere sake of elucidation. Kagome was diverging herself from the restriction of fabric even as she still spoke. Ripples of air, licks of zephyrs, slid over her skin, made her nakedness, the nearness of reality more tangible. She held his eyes, saw the dusk of recoil, wisps of inhibition – at the imminence of the ritual, at the bared want. A sough of aggression prowled beneath her skin, the sound soft, deceptive.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before."

Sesshōmaru's neck tipped, his lips thinned, but he spoke his thoughts, shed light to his reactions.

"Not quite."

Cognition speared through her, placated her impatience, and she nodded. No – it was not quite the same, being taken by your own body.

"Don't tell me you're having…second thoughts?"

He neither denied nor affirmed it, but he didn't have to. There was no escape, no alternative, they both knew what had to be done.

"Just relax. I know female pleasure – and I know my body better than anyone, if nothing else."

Her words didn't have the desired result, quite the opposite. Sesshōmaru's features tensed, his eyes flashed with something distasteful, gave her pause. Kagome frowned, reassessed her words, tried to think what would cause him unrest – and then she found it. A sibilant sound fell from her lips, close to a chuckle but different.

"I didn't mean it like that. I've known male pleasure as well – but I was _not_ the man in those cases. Satisfied now?"


	36. Far From It...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 403

Tension unfurled, oozed from his glands, made his scent sweeter – slowly, languidly, he undressed. Stirrings of lust, driblets of heat, at the sight of nude skin, the promise of wetness. His body whispered melioration, beckoned her – but when she took a step forth, he took one back. Another sigh, mounting aggression, still leashed, bound by patience.

"You know, proximity is required for this act."

"Then come closer, miko."

She felt the urge to laugh at the conflict of his words and actions, play this game of advance and retreat, of hunter and prey with him. It was no longer unwelcome – but more of a tease, a kink of foreplay.

"Ah, I see… You are of the opinion that the man must do all the work?"

A half-smirk split the curve of her mouth, slanted provocation. Kagome took another step, came closer – but he didn't step away, not this time. The blue of his irises silvered, like argent metal.

"You want me to plead?"

"That's not what I meant...again."

Kagome chuckled, low, husky, threads of sound woven into satisfaction – then she took pause.

"What kind of females have you bedded to form such opinions?"

"Yōkai females – only yōkai."

It wasn't what she asked, but she supposed it didn't matter much. She shook her head, tried a different, more direct approach, spoke in terms he could relate with.

"Well, I don't know about yōkai, but humans don't impose restrictions on sex or follow protocol. Do what you _like_ , Sesshōmaru, voice your wants, take your pleasure… It would actually feel better if you did – less…forced."

Sesshōmaru gave neither acknowledgement nor dissent – but _he did move._ Low and lower. Slow. Provocative. Temptation slinking within kyanite, with deer-like grace, he bent his body to the ground, on his hands, on his knees. A hint of slick skin, of coral buds, softness and round hips – desire brewing in hot blood.

"Are you sure you wanna play it like that?"

A sliver of emotion flashed in the zaffre of his eyes then. It was subtle, yet unmistakable. He had taken a female in that way, Kagome realized and, for some reason, this knowledge called to that hunk of primal instincts, deliquesced that clot of aggression. It sizzled just above the surface, coursed beneath taut skin – and a growl ravished her throat.

"Does this displease you?"

"Far from it…"

She enunciated the words, made them sentient, suspended in the thickness of the air between them.


	37. I Would Not Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 475

A waft of wind susurrated, spoke of wilderness and untamed things and lust, promises of perspiration and slick skin. Kagome couldn't mistake the scent of woman and primal need and urgency. It was intoxicating, guided her steps towards the kneeling form before her. She licked her lips, tongue dragging over sharp-tipped teeth. A drop of blood, gliding down her throat, saturated with heat, less anger, more voracity. Her muscles flexed, her claws twitched, vibrations of aggression and impatience. Desire throbbed, feasted on her animal senses, gathered in dips and strips of skin, seethed in a mass low in her abdomen. Sesshōmaru had delayed this too long, frayed her capacity to hold herself back, make it easier on him with his eccentric notions and postponement. Kagome took another step towards him – and another. He was close, too close – Kagome could almost taste the salt of his sweat, feel the swelter of his body.

Sesshōmaru could sense her slow approach, the imminence of the act, but the miko had fallen silent. It was rather unnerving, evoked a mélange of feelings and sensations he was unfamiliar with. His nature would not allow him to yield, but this body…held of a will of its own. His mind revisited the pathways of memory, the few times he had indulged in such things. Females were wanton and shameless and quite vocal in their pleasure, but always submissive, always beneath him. Sesshōmaru thought to imitate them, but he couldn't quite bring himself to accept this. Was this how the miko would react were she in his place? No. No – she was different from the females he had bedded. This body told him as much, whispered suggestions, urged him to forgo these notions of staying still and pliable.

"Miko –" Sesshōmaru sought to ask of her past experiences, of how she liked to be taken, to understand this restlessness rippling through his body – but then a cuff of muscle and lean thews coiled around his waist, pressed him against the source of his discontent. His shoulder blades slid against the contours of her torso, naked skin and a lick of sweat. Sesshōmaru tensed but didn't struggle. Her other arm planted itself on the ground next to his face even as she ground against him.

"You better not tell me to stop now…"

Her voice had regressed to a cluster of instincts, rough-edged. It seeped into his core, inflamed his nerve endings, tempted the fires brewing beneath layers of tissue and skin – and he made a sound between a growl and a hiss.

"You would not stop. _I_ would not stop. There is no need for further delay."

Her arm tightened around him, an onslaught of restriction and power, as if to tell him _you are not going anywhere_. Sesshōmaru felt her laugh, more rumble than laughter, arousing, like everything else about this act.


	38. How Eloquent...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 554

"Let's take it slow, shall we? If this works, I'll be back in my body when we finish – and I refuse to be sore because I was too damn careless and rough."

Her arm unwound from his waist, sidled lower, currents of cool air and hot, ridged skin on the inside of his thigh. Languorous strokes, firm-gripped, nails grazing, not too deep, not too soft, marking his flesh with shallow welts.

Sesshōmaru gave her a low sound, unwitting, shivers and spasms, the closer she moved to the juncture of his legs, to the place that burned and ached for her touch. The pads of her fingers caressed tender folds, sampled their sensitivity, back and forth, in maddening motions. A wicked tease. He moved beneath her, seeking more of that friction, that rip of nerves, but didn't give her the satisfaction of being vocal about it.

"Just admit that you like it."

Her breath fanned on the nape of his neck, sultry, agonizingly close.

"It does not matter whether I –" But then canines scraped the curve of his shoulder, her fingers pressed harder, dipped low, delved into slick want.

"But it matters to me. Say it."

Sesshōmaru didn't care for her taunt, her chuckle – so long as she didn't stop. He bucked against her, forced her to slide deeper, relished the animalistic sound that spilled from her throat, the intrusion of teeth and long fingers. His walls clamped around her digits as they bent and twisted and rubbed in all the right ways – but it ended too soon. Much too soon. Her fingers withdrew from the tight clasp of his muscles, left him unsatisfied, earned her a feminine snarl, and she made that rough sound again, that laughter.

"You don't have to like it, Sesshōmaru – but you _do like it_. We will never speak of this again…we might as well do so now."

His mouth curled in vexation, but before Sesshōmaru could speak, those same fingers touched his lips. They glissaded in circles, smeared his wetness on his lips, viscous and zesty – then lowered, clutched his jaw, tilted his neck until he met her eyes. Pale, with the illusion of gold, moonstone melted into lust, her eyes ravished him as much as her fingers. Slanted smirk and belligerence and venery – _all of her_. Sesshōmaru couldn't be certain, but he doubted that such an expression had ever touched his features when he had been in his body. His tongue darted out, licked his upper lip, took a sip of his need. Her smirk tilted, adopted visceral qualities.

"Have a taste… _Sesshōmaru_ – but not too much. I'll be the one doing that."

Arrogant woman – but _her voice_ when she said his name… It precipitated a flux of sensations, stimulated areas she was no longer touching - and more. The tip of her tongue laved the curve of his lips, savored the drink slathered on silk-soft flesh. A growl rippled through her body, intrinsic undulations against the slope of his back. Heat and wetness pooled and slinked and grew, spiraled into the apex of his thighs. Teeth sank into his lower lip, nipped and nibbled, provoked a chain of reactions. Sesshōmaru arched against her, unbidden, demanding, reminiscent of the females he had taken – and she chuckled.

"Is this your way of telling me that you like it? How eloquent…"


	39. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 514

"Do you enjoy the taste of yourself so much, miko?"

Kagome chuckled at his nuance, heavy with things he didn't want to acknowledge. It only served to inflame her more, make her harden and hearken to him. Antagonizing him had never brought forth such reactions, yet in this case, she seethed with arousal.

"If you're trying to rush me with cheap taunts, you're failing miserably. You're only turning me on more..."

Grinding against his buttocks, she slid between the seam of yielding flesh, once, twice. A grunt of need, blood melting in her veins. He was so wet, growing wetter, the more she twisted her hips, the more she stimulated sensitized skin and dripping heat. Slow motions and soaking desire. Sesshōmaru drenched her in his scent, in searing lava, coating the inside of his thighs, the length of her erection.

"Perhaps that's your intention though? If you want some special attention, all you have to do is ask, Sesshōmaru."

He didn't speak but his hips swiveled, pressed back against her, sought the thrusts of her pelvis, to take her inside – but she wouldn't give him that. Not yet.

"Tell me." Less than a murmur, more of a growl, possessed by animal urges, swallowed by wetness as she ravaged his lips. "What do you want?"

It was more rhetorical, spoken for provocation's sake, but he did answer her this time. Breathless, almost a moan, his voice was like an electric current, spreading through her body, from her throbbing fangs to her nipples down to her cock.

"For this to be over."

His words didn't matter, only that he spoke with that lust-ridden voice.

"Liar."

A rumble undulated beneath strung skin, warned of roughness, of mounting pleasure. Kagome turned him over beneath her, flat on his back, relished the change of positions, the sight he made. Tapered knees bent, grazing against her ribs, chest heaving, nipples gliding against her torso, hard and swollen. She took a turgid peak into her mouth, tongue teasing, circling the bud, teeth biting, not too hard, just enough to have him writhe, convulse with want, make his body plead for more. Hands traipsed over exposed, sweat-lathered skin, dips and swells, stroked the flushed curves of his breasts, his thighs, nails sank into soft flesh, urged him to make more of those sounds.

The flat of her tongue smeared sultriness wherever she licked, swirled around his navel. Teeth nipped and reddened his skin, traced the accentuated lines of his pelvic bones, until she felt his legs part, invite her lower, and she chuckled, gave what he wanted. Fingers twisted and pressed and slinked, in and out, up and down, tongue stroking and lapping at the nectar gathered in crevices, on soft folds. Kagome plunged inside, relished the moans, the way he thrashed when her fangs dragged over sensitive skin and tissue, heightened all sensations. She felt the grip of his body on the rough length of her tongue, the spasms of his muscles, the frantic motions of his hips, as she drank him in, every drop of his release, his spent desire.


	40. Any Last Words?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 478

A half-grin touched her lips, her tongue licked his aftertaste, the remnants of dewy warmth, and she rose, stared at him. Peals of hunger thrummed in her blood, coursed through every vein and artery, as her eyes roved over the ravished body beneath her, slick with perspiration, glowing with satiation. Lust-filled, dark-hued blue traveled down her body, stared at her with another kind of heat now, sultry and thick and demanding. Sesshōmaru urged her to finish this. Lips peeled back, she felt a twinge of pain, of unrestrained need. Kagome couldn't wait any longer. This tightening sensation had become almost unbearable, clamored for fulfillment. Moving back, she submerged herself into the water, dragged him with her, thighs coiling around her, ankles digging into her sides. The water rippled and flowed around her, reaching up to mid-thigh, washed away the sweat with its coolness, but did nothing to alleviate this burn, the fires that laved her skin.

"End of the line. Any last words?"

Kagome couldn't tell what prompted her to ask, but she felt the intrinsic impulse to do so. If the ritual was successful, this ordeal would end, but she couldn't bring herself to think of the consequences at the moment. There was only heat, raw sensation, self-willed.

"Do not mark me."

Languish, husky warning, his voice waxed her hunger, reminded her of the one consequence that must be avoided at all costs – and she laughed.

"Oh trust me, that's the last thought on my mind right now."

Kagome moved against him, slid between hot, wet flesh, stroked that bundle of nerves, the source of pleasure, reveled in his shivers, then sought the clutch of his body, sank into him, inch by inch, slow, torrid penetration. Her hands clasped his hips, she stilled, muscles flexing, almost shaking at the restriction, the binding of flesh – so soft and tight and warm. Then she was falling. Fire in the veins, a change of skin. It coursed through bone marrow, sinewy tissue and muscle, tendons and joints, devastated all in its path. A mass of spasms and sweat. Heathen desire and decalescent lust. She moaned, begged for something to end, something to begin. Power surged and swelled and pulsed inside every organ – her tongue, her heart, her cock – unsatisfied, unreleased. She took the magic within her – and died.

When Kagome came alive, nothing had ended, nothing had begun. That power was gone, but something else still flowed, still conquered all that she was. It craved to be sunk deeper, to be absorbed, into the pith of her cells. Nerves thrummed, drums of sensations, of taking and being taken. There was another body, another skin against hers. She raised her lids, painstakingly slow, breathed in the scent of male and sweat, saw sleek, taut muscles, felt the stretch of desire, the pulse of his flesh, still inside of her.

"Sesshōmaru –"


	41. Do Not Order Me, Woman

"Do not speak."

It was a command. Sesshōmaru cursed her voice, that lust-wrought temptation. She mustn't speak. Not now. Not when she had him engulfed in her pulsating heat, in the sweltering clasp of her body. He ceased all somatic motion – but it was futile. Sensation overrode movement. He could still _feel_ her, like a slow-beating tightness, wrapped around him, goading him to pound into her, to lose his inhibitions and take her like an animal, like he had never taken a female before. And then she huffed.

"Either move or get out of me."

He damn near snapped at her waspish tone, at the cutting taunt, at the flexing of her inner walls. Infuriating, daft woman. She didn't – _couldn't_ – understand the complications of their situation, of what she was asking. If she pressed him harder, he would spill past the point of no return – he was close, dangerously close.

"Do _not_ order me, woman."

Another command. Another huff.

"Listen here, jerk. We changed back after the first thrust. You're still hard, still inside me, and you owe me an orgasm. Or did you forget how good my tongue fel-"

He kissed her, if only to make her heed his words, silence those swollen, reddened lips. It was a mistake, he knew, but couldn't stop himself.

"One more word and I _will_ tear that tongue of yours out."

Then he kissed her again. Canines dragged over the expanse of her tongue, grazed the slithery flesh, as if to emphasize his point. No more than a droplet of blood, welling, gliding on his palate, down his throat, carmine addiction. It merged with her lingering essence, thawed his resolve, and finally – he moved. One smooth thrust, one raptured moan, slick muscles gripping, swallowing him deeper. She writhed beneath him, nails welting his shoulder blades, blunt but sharp, drawing blood, thin rivulets trailing down his back, reddening the waters. Sesshōmaru ceased all motion once more, leaned closer, breasts flattened, thighs trapped, breaths mingled, no inch of skin untouched.

"If you must speak then say my name. Nothing else."

Low, rough-strewn, barely a growl, his warning stroked her lips. She gave a small whimper, unwitting, half-frustration, half-impatience, but spoke no more. The zaffre of her eyes liquefied, gleamed with challenge, seething provocation. It incited him for some reason. He hadn't wished to hear her voice, had scorned the lure of its huskiness, because it whispered unspeakable things, urged him to break and be broken. Sesshōmaru had bidden her silence to tether his control, yet that she would do so now - when he had given her permission – succeeded in unshackling the last bond of his discipline. He withdrew, slowly, almost carefully, then surged forward with a wild, hard thrust, gave in to his animal senses, and Kagome – she screamed his name, clawed at his back with manic motions, bit his lips until their blood merged into a feral kiss, trapped him in the demands of her body and wetness. Deeper. Harder. Tighter.

"Sesshōmaru -"

Her voice had regressed to slow whispers, spent moans, when he relinquished her lips, sought the fragile arc of her neck, tongue laving the slickness of her flesh, teeth scraping, almost tearing through the first layer of skin. His fangs ached, throbbed to be sunk into her, mark her, take her as his body took her – but then she stilled beneath him, back arched, the swells of her breasts pressing into him, pulsing desire and palpitations around his cock, muscles clenching and unclenching, forcing his own release. He gave in, followed after her, if only to be spared of the almost mistake, the near lapse of judgment.

When he spoke, the guttural aggression in his voice, the animalistic undertones, were like spikes of ice, cutting through his viscera, freezing his blood.

"I almost marked you, miko."

Sesshōmaru wasn't even aware that he had voiced this unsettling thought until he felt her shift beneath him, shiver with light tremors, though whether from cold or lingering want, he couldn't tell.

"But you didn't."

The wariness in her voice, her frail conviction did nothing to assuage his malaise. Only one thing could.

"This will _never_ occur again."

It took a long, hollow moment for her to reply and he reckoned she maybe wouldn't – but she did.

"Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 717


	42. That Bastard Is Mine!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 519

Kagome felt as if she had been enmeshed in a finespun dream where nothing and everything made sense. Underneath layers of awareness and shock, flares of satiation simmered, embers of fugacious pleasure. Her pulse fluctuated, writhed inside her veins, blood pumping into her heart, feeding the human organ. Realization rippled through her, crested with violent waves. Human. She was back in her body. Exhaustion merged with exhilaration, her thighs trembled, muscles constricted. Heat, skin against skin, flesh inside flesh – then she fainted.

Sesshōmaru felt her body tighten then loosen beneath him, coming undone like a silk-corded knot. He grunted, cursed the intrinsic convulsions, the sultry grip of her walls. Even unconscious, she urged him, spurred his baser instincts – to take, to ravage. Once more. She was soft and wet and hot – and dangerous. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he slid out of her, consigned such impulses to the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind.

Their clothes were strewn in careless piles across the river's bank. Sesshōmaru should dress and leave, but the notion of abandoning her to the wilderness, vulnerable and exposed, was disconcerting. He would touch her body one last time, help her into her clothes, then deliver her to the hanyō – and never again. There would be no more contact between them, perhaps not even words exchanged.

* * *

The village was quiet, perhaps too quiet, when Sesshōmaru returned with the miko slung over his shoulder.

"Took ya long enough!"

Inuyasha's gruff voice shattered the tranquility of the night, irritated Sesshōmaru's hearing, but he didn't care for petty squabbles with his sibling tonight. When the hanyō sought to take the miko, Sesshōmaru relinquished her with gladness, overwhelmed by her scent, haunted by visions of roughness and fresh-rooted lust.

"The ritual was successful."

There was no need for such statements, but he felt the need to vocalize the change, make it more real than it already was, tangible. It wasn't that he underestimated the hanyō's powers of deduction, but Inuyasha took it as that, snapped either way.

"I can smell it, asshole! She reeks of you and things I don't wanna think about. _Ever_."

For the first time in his long, seamless life, Sesshōmaru was in accord with his half-brother. Then he turned to depart, turned his back on the woman and the memories she evoked.

"Hn."

"You want me to –" Inuyasha's voice stopped him, hesitant, as if he struggled to say the next words. "– tell her anything when she wakes up?"

Sesshōmaru wasn't aware of the reason, but the hanyō's question angered him. Rage welled in his blood, slinked into the gold of his eyes, stained the pale hue with streaks of crimson.

"There is nothing more to say, only things to be done. For this indignity, I will not merely slay Naraku, I will not kill him upon sight."

"That bastard is mine! Get in line!"

He barely heard Inuyasha's hollering as he took to the skies, intent on finding Naraku's trail and making true of his promise. The filthy hanyō would die by his hand, but it would be neither an easy nor a quick death.


	43. Do Not Talk to Me of Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 742

_Six months later_

Naraku couldn't tell what month it was, what day, what hour. Perception of time, awareness of oneself, were fragile concepts in this confinement. There was the cave, the shrieks, the pain – and the chains. Searing bonds around his limbs, his neck, his waist, tightening with each passing day, shredding the fleshly layers of his body and his endurance. Power, sable, like melted blood, licked at earth-made walls, flesh flayed, blood gorged, bones gnawed, his reality. Screams, pleas, ear-splitting suffering, the only sounds that touched this place. _His._ Long-lasting torture, tangible, strident agony, the hanyō writhed, undulated, mid blood and poison, anguish-laden moans on his lips, sweat on stripped skin – but his eyes were lucid, held another kind of delirium, not born of pain, pleasure-born, self-inflicted.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Naraku tilted his chin back, smiled at the figure standing above him, but it was not really a smile. Daring lacquered on words, taunt stretched across blood-slathered lips. The rattling of chains, shackles around his wrists, his ankles, anchoring him to his knees, accompanied his question.

"Yes."

The hanyō stared at Sesshōmaru, at his black-slit eyes – eyes born of this dark, of this heat – and laughed, the sound sinking into the night, merging with the fires. Sesshōmaru's features did not change, not even a spasm of muscles, nothing to indicate a sliver of emotion, yet Naraku heard the distaste in his tone, a scintilla of rage under layers of indifference. Naraku laughed, reveled in the thinning of Sesshōmaru's lips, the faint signs of wrath beneath the ice. The daiyōkai's touch was as cold as it was hot, numbed him as much as it ravished him.

"But not yet. Is that what you're saying?"

Naraku's grin morphed into a smirk, a licking of lips, venom on his tongue when he spoke.

"I thought you valued honor, _Sesshōmaru-sama_."

Sesshōmaru's brows knitted, filaments of silver sewn together, and Naraku knew his next words would amuse him.

"Do not talk to me of honor. You do not know the meaning of the word."

Finally, a reaction – admonition above a gnashing of teeth, naked disgust in the gold of Sesshōmaru's irises. Naraku chuckled, toxic mellifluence, a baneful sound. Indeed, highly entertaining – then he threw his neck back, howled with laughter. It was almost _too much_.

"And you do? Is this your way of showing _your_ honor then?"

Yōki lashed, ripped through tissue and viscera, shattered bone and tendons, a slow, beating pulse, alive with sinuous quietism, sinking into him. Naraku was drenched in copper – in his eyes, in his hair, on his skin, _everywhere_. Power uncoiled, undulated, hums of lethality, heat slinking, encircling Naraku's calves, trying to devour him. It was dark, spoke of torment, sought to feast on the senses, another kind of fire. The flames of yōki snaked higher, tightened around the back of Naraku's knees, the arc of his neck.

"Silence. I have heard enough of your mockery."

Naraku smiled, decided to humor the daiyōkai for the time being. Sesshōmaru would kill him either way, but there was still some gratification to be gained. Smooth, forked-tongued seduction, Naraku laid his bait.

"But I have information that is of interest to you."

Sesshōmaru stared at the hanyō for a long, silent moment. The more he held Naraku's eyes, the more his anger spiked – such treachery embedded in dark garnet, slithery deception.

"Then speak while you are able to do so – but make no mistake. You shall perish when I deem it is time."

Yōki melted, sinewy, gripping, like liquid metal, stretched in carmine rows. It responded to Sesshōmaru's emotions, his disrelish, clutched Naraku's body – ruthless, penetrating. Naraku understood he had unraveled the last thread of the daiyōkai's patience, the last shred of his capacity to strive for forestallment. He laughed, mellisonant derision, a pleasing tenor, the baneful cerise of his irises darkened with contempt.

"I think I shall keep my silence then."

Laughter overlay the acridness in Naraku's voice, spoke of victory, well-earned, despite Naraku being the one on his knees, the one whose neck was strained, tightened between wisps of yōki, slender, white fingers. The flames changed, reddened, adopted visceral qualities as they engulfed him. Close, much too close, Sesshōmaru's anger gilded over Naraku's skin, burned, extinguished his life. Little by little. Breath by breath. Husky, filled with cynicism and satiation, Naraku's last words incited Sesshōmaru, dragged him into the same fires.

"There will come a day when you will regret this, Sesshōmaru."


	44. A Sordid Twist of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 355

Sesshōmaru gazed at Naraku's body, flayed alive, torn asunder. Nothing remained of the hanyō, nothing but the percolation of blood, the disintegration of flesh – and an umbrous glow. A sordid twist of fate. The Shikon no Tama. It was imperfect, fractional, wetted in darkness and guileful elocution. Whispers of power, promises of conquest – serpentine deception. The impulse to shatter it into myriad granules, adumbral sand, was overcoming in Sesshōmaru's mind. It would be so facile to break it, exile it into oblivion – but he stayed his hand. The cursed jewel yet retained some purpose, another use for the daiyōkai.

Naraku's demise was preordained but not his torment – that was brought upon by the hanyō's foolishness. Sesshōmaru didn't care for Naraku's silk-webbed words in his death-claimed moments. The pull of retribution was too strong, implacable – red vendetta in his narrow bones. Only when hot blood grew cold, only then, did Sesshōmaru contemplate the hanyō's warning. It was neither lie nor truth, but Sesshōmaru already knew that, had felt the change long before Naraku implied it. Something lurked in his body, hid within tissue and medulla, dissonant to his nature, foreign. It was a part of _her_ , lingering, assimilating into his flesh and soul – slowly, insidiously. Perhaps it was the same for her, most probably was.

Sesshōmaru hadn't visited upon her these past six months, had striven to chain her existence into the dungeons of memory, yet it was infeasible. Their bonds were shackle-free, wrapped in lunacy and lust. A Gordian knot. Ties that couldn't be severed, deathless. Once awakened, desire remained cognizant, could not be foresworn. Sesshōmaru had tethered the urge to meet with her, once more, perhaps more than once, yet he could no longer do as such. His life, his essence, his nature were tainted by her, mutating – whether irrevocably or not remained to be seen. Sesshōmaru would seek her – he would observe and stalk and wait. For now. The Shikon would provide him with opportunities, chances to determine if she suffered the same change. Scattered, offered to yōkai and ningen for their invidious aspirations, it would call to her, bring her to him.


	45. What Is Done Is Done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1123

_Six months later_

A warrior. Tall and lithe, she smelled of earthly desires, of green wood and raw metal. Her scent was the same, the blue of her eyes as well, yet her attire had changed. Skin-tight leather and armor, sword on her hip and bow on her back. She was all muscles and thighs, hair tied in a high knot, long and shiny, the color of moistened earth, cimmerian. Her skin was touched by the sun, made tawny, adorned with crimson-pale scars, some thin and new, some deep and old. Still, she was beautiful. It was the kind of beauty that spoke of limberness, of slick sweat, of bloodheat. Sesshōmaru could see the lust of her skin, could hear the purr of her sinew – it drew him closer, clutched him tighter.

That woman he had met in his brother's company a year ago was no more – she was as much of a warrior as he now. The tang of battle and blood clung to her skin; she had a huntress' scent, hawk eyes and lissome limbs. Dangerous woman, even more so than before. For six months, Sesshōmaru observed and stalked and waited – but it was time. Time to meet once more, to talk without shadows or barriers between them, as equals, as beings afflicted with the same sufferance. He could tell it was so, could see the changes in her mien, in the origins of her power. Another hue, another skin, another soul.

Away from her companions, at the first dark of the night, Sesshōmaru followed her as she took to the hot springs. There was no need to make a sound, to vocalize his presence – she already knew he was there.

"It's been a long time, Sesshōmaru… A year, is it?"

Her voice was not soft, not as he remembered it to be, yet it was everything a woman should be. Bold, sensuous, it glissaded over him, made his skin feel hot, rekindled the vestige of attraction beneath the memory. It was a natural response, had always been as such – whenever her eyes touched him, provoked him. A half-smirk on her lips, she watched and waited, but Sesshōmaru held his tongue, didn't trust himself to speak – hence he undressed, joined her in the warm-hazed waters. Her eyes trailed over his nakedness, low and lower, dipped below his pubic bone. She licked her upper lip, laughter bubbled in the zaffre of her gaze, in the nadir of her throat – but it was not the same laughter. Husky undertones, it still held traces of daring, stroked his mind – licks of wildfire, skin-felt sensations, anamneses of bedevilment. Sesshōmaru's voice was rough, heavy with old-festered lust, when he finally spoke.

"You have changed, miko – but still the same, still you taunt."

Kagome flashed him a grin, feral intensity and slightly mocking.

"I'm not the only one who's changed, Sesshōmaru."

Her tone was friendly, a light challenge, but the weight of her gaze was heavy. A succession of white teeth flashed behind her grin. His skin felt hotter, candle wax dripping on thin flesh. Inch by inch, drop by drop, it burned and blistered – _she_ was there, the woman who haunted his memory, hunted his vagary. _Kagome_... He tasted the echo of her name in the winding corridors of his mind but didn't speak it aloud.

"That is true."

A crick racked his neck, bones snapping with a sharp sound.

"Naraku has perished. I slew him."

Her lips split by a margin, rueful smirk above a gnashing of teeth. A shimmer of awareness coated her eyes as what Sesshōmaru revealed sank into her mind.

"So it was you, after all."

Her chin furrowed, in indignation perhaps, or self-loathing, Sesshōmaru wasn't sure, but she gave him a nod of acknowledgement. When she parted her lips again, her voice dragged on his skin with the promise of pain, like cool daggers. Sesshōmaru peered at her, noted how her muscles clenched, how her body tensed.

"You should have called for us – for _me_. I would have liked to pay him back the debt I owed him."

There was sharpness in her warning and threat in her grin. Sesshōmaru believed her. Her grin narrowed then, adopted visceral qualities – a slash of smirk. Every vein and artery, every limb and organ in her body frothed with _fury_ , seething, consuming. Kagome eyed its source with a hard stare, channeled all the rage through it.

"You had no right – _no right_!" Realization struck while she yet spoke, evolved from a reptilian hiss into a lion's roar. "Even if you did, I had my own right!"

"Calm yourself, miko."

Smooth and quiet was his utterance, yet much like the calm before the storm. Kagome could feel it – waves of vexation, like a river under strung skin, turning his veins into the color of ice.

"What is done is done."

Her furor dwindled, coalesced with acceptance, a pool of heat and saliva under her tongue. Kagome fought not to hurl it at him, not to let it slaver down her chin. It was a factual statement but not what she wished to hear. Still, as he claimed, there was nothing to be done about it.

"Why are you here, Sesshōmaru? What do you want from me?"

Her displeasure slashed across her face, loosened his tongue.

"Are you not curious, miko? The change – you can feel it, I know you can. Do you not wish to know how it came to be, what it means?"

She smiled, but her smile, too, was different. Sesshōmaru took in the changes, with every word she uttered, with every move she made. Little by little. The more he observed her the more he realized the change had progressed further in her than in him.

"What is the point in knowing that? I have searched far and wide this past year, both in my era and in this one – and I have discovered nothing. _Nothing_!"

Her tone was bitter, leaked venom and regret; her lids descended, tried to hide her expression – too late. Sesshōmaru saw the malaise in the ashen sea of her eyes, drowned in it.

"Do your companions know of your ailment?"

No matter the casualness of his question, and despite that his mask did not dissolve, Kagome could still see that river, could tell Sesshōmaru's ire had not yet subsided. It pleased her, brought harshness to her features, gave an edge to her smile.

"Is that what you call it – an _ailment_?"

"Come with me, miko. We shall seek one who knows all – we shall visit Bokusenō."

The suddenness of Sesshōmaru's offer, the way his voice evened, cut her anger short, made Kagome regard him with skepticism under her lashes – but she nodded, as he knew she would.


	46. That Is Unfortunate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Revisions are DONE. Woo! Now...we can truly go onwards!
> 
> Word Count: 971

It was a strange place, this forest, this dwelling of old souls, brimming with life, with knowledge. Kagome could feel it – in _everything_. The winds whispered secrets, the sunrays crafted paintings, the trees narrated stories, the birds sang myths. Sesshōmaru didn't much care for them, kept his strides even, unhurried, but she knew he could feel them, perhaps even more than she. When he came to a stop before a great tree, abounding with green leaves, dark wood and aged lines, she almost regretted the end of their journey. Perhaps she would visit this forest once more, later, much later, and hear more of its voices – but, for now, silence prevailed. Birds, insects, animals, all stilled their tongues, hid their claws. The forest grew quiet but for one voice.

"Greetings, Sesshōmaru, eldest of the Inu no Taishō. I have not seen you since you came to claim your heirloom, Tenseiga. You did not seem much pleased then – neither do you now. Why have you come this time?"

 _Bokusenō_. Kagome stared at the tree yōkai, at its ovoid face, pale eyes, no more than slits, aquiline nose and deep lines, heard the strain in his voice, as if he had not spoken for a very long time – and perhaps he hadn't.

"Greetings, ancient one. We have come for your insight."

It was the first time Kagome had witnessed such respect from Sesshōmaru, but perhaps the nature of their journey, the severity of their predicament, guaranteed such courtesies. Bokusenō made a rough sound that could be laughter or coughing or both, but his eyes weren't on Sesshōmaru.

"Yes, I see. Come forward, child – let me have a look at your face."

When she came closer, met the dulled gleam of the tree's gaze, Kagome knew it had to be laughter. Bokusenō seemed amused by her presence – and she soon learned why.

"A human, a miko, you have brought. Not far from the tree then…"

"I did not come for your senile blither."

The tree laughed again, shaking bark and falling leaves and ridged curves – then he ceased all motion, serious, solemn.

"I feel the reason for your coming, Sesshōmaru – I feel it on my bark, on my leaves, down to my old roots."

"Then speak of it and spare us your riddles."

Sesshōmaru might have abandoned the courtesies but he never raised his voice.

"Power, sinister, ancient, older than even I. An exchange of souls is heavy magic…it cannot be done by everyone. Who has placed this curse upon you, child?"

"It was a dark miko."

"A human…no – it cannot be. Unless…"

The tree yōkai's voice withered, died away in rumination. Minutes passed, long, agonizing, until Kagome could take it no more.

"Unless?"

As if waking from a slumber, Bokusenō quaked with slight tremors, harrumphed then focused on Kagome.

"Whom did she serve, child? Upon which Kami did she draw power? No human can cast such potent, vile spells without the aid of a god."

Dread filled her at the tree's implications, plucked the fibers of her heart, one by one. Her voice was thin, stretched with awareness, when she gave her reply.

"I don't know…she's dead. There's no way to know…"

"That is unfortunate, most unfortunate…"

" _There will come a day when you will regret this, Sesshōmaru."_ Naraku's last words, his dying mockery, rang and howled in Sesshōmaru's ears, bladed phantoms ripping and slashing through the warp of his mind. _Regret_. Yes, indeed, he felt it now, this abhorrent sentiment – for killing him _too soon_.

Rage suffused his being – at the hanyō, at the dead miko, at _himself_. Grave, with hints of recalcitrance, Sesshōmaru's voice echoed in the quiet that succeeded the tree yōkai's disclosure.

"Can the change be halted, can it be reversed?"

Bokusenō hummed, a rustling of leaves, weightless breeze, but his answer was harrowing, unpalatable – for both he and the miko.

"It can be done – but only by the caster…or the Kami who lent their power."

A strangled sound, a biting of lips, Kagome refused to believe this, even though she could taste the truth of it, could feel it in the marrow of her bones, hot-spread toxicity.

"I thought there could be other ways. We lifted the original curse with a ritual. It appeared to work, for a while…" Breath in. A trickle of sweat. Breath out. "But it…didn't – _not completely_."

The earth sighed alongside the elder tree, soft vibrations, coursing through her weak knees. Sesshōmaru's stillness, his passivity to what was being said was eerie, roused her anger, steeled her shaking bones. If he would not break, would not show emotion, then neither would she.

"Soul exchanges are not to be taken lightly, child. You cannot force a soul into another vessel without repercussions, without residual effects. The ritual you performed was only half the answer, incomplete."

Silence befell Kagome but not Sesshōmaru. He had more questions to ask; Bokusenō had more answers to give.

"Do you know what this change is then, the extent of it?"

A chuckle, forlorn, not as booming as it used to be, palliated with age, spilled from the tree yōkai.

"Yes, I know it well. You see it happening in nature quite often, if you have lived as long as I. Plants, animals, yōkai, humans – all must adapt to the changes of nature, must evolve to survive. It is called metamorphosis, young daiyōkai. Your souls left their mark upon your bodies, traces of power – and weakness. You are turning into something else, neither yōkai nor ningen but something _in-between_. To change is the only way to survive."

Venom drizzled, scarred the earth. Drop after drop. Once again, Kagome chose silence – and Sesshōmaru forced himself to utter the remainder of his questions.

"And what of the change itself? What will become of us? What is this power, this weakness, you speak of?"


	47. You Were Not There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1141

"You will become…unique beings, another kind, not born but made."

Bokusenō's voice was ill-sounding, a strum of vocal cords, roughened, as if he was unused to such long talks, but not as unpleasant as his words themselves. Sesshōmaru pondered them, made his own conclusions.

"Not hanyō then."

It was spoken for self-assurance's sake, as if saying it aloud would give more substance to the matter, make it irrefutable. Still, Bokusenō nodded, offered unasked verification.

"You will retain most characteristics of yourselves – but absorb others."

His eyes fell on Kagome, narrow, dimmed with prescience, but not unkind.

"I suspect yōkai longevity for you, child – but perhaps it will be another curse. Your bonds lie with mortality, with fleeting life, after all…"

The scents of tree resins and old wood and spring, once aromatic, now became cloying, filled Kagome's lungs. Thick congestion, toilsome respiration, the miko shook her head, whether in denial or resignation, even she couldn't tell. She would have to watch her family, her friends, everyone she knew and loved, grow old, become nothing but soil and memories, leave her behind.

"And for you, Sesshōmaru, emotional resonance, that which your sire strove to pass on by bequeathing Tenseiga to you – but I fear your line will end with you."

Wrath swelled in Sesshōmaru's eyes, an illusion of crimson, almost touchable – it devoured the blackness of his pupils. Scents and sounds inundated the atmosphere – poisons and growls. Kagome watched with weariness as Sesshōmaru swallowed back that growl, as it throbbed inside his body, from his throat down to his abdomen.

"You dare claim I will never have heirs?"

Bokusenō hummed, less than sound, an oscillation of wood, a quivering of leaves.

"I never claimed you could not beget offspring – merely that female yōkai could not, _will not_ do. Your nature will become dissimilar to theirs, incompatible for such."

Furor. Potent toxicity. Another growl. It smothered the tree yōkai's low tone, devoured the calm of the forest, too violent a warning, a dazzle of canines.

"It is the _same_. I will not mate a ningen. I will not sire a hanyō. "

"You have but one choice then."

Grave-spoken, firm with finality, Bokusenō overpassed the bite of Sesshōmaru's anger. His eyes touched Kagome, delved inside her psyche, saw more than she wished to be known, dragged wretched memory to the surface. She took a step back – and another. As if stricken with a physical blow, she recoiled, struggled to breathe. A clutter of spasms and denial, skin numbed, jaw frozen, her lips barely parted to allow vociferation.

"No – no…"

Sesshōmaru reined his fury, took note of her change, of the white in her eyes – iris, pupil, sclera, all one and the same. No other color, no blue, no black, only white, the shade of grief and shock and guilt.

"Miko –"

A chant spilled past her thin lips, devoid of blood – a litany of _no_ , culminated in a scream, brittle, strident.

"No!"

Quickly, almost on instinct, his muscles flexed, his hand caught her wrist, hard-gripped, bruising clutch. Nails sank into taut skin, drew blood, pain for lucidity.

"Calm yourself, miko. I would not ask it of you."

She ceased her incoherencies, became chillingly still, but the whiteness of her eyes persisted, color didn't return.

"I can't – not true…that is a _lie_!"

It was a hiss of a whisper, burdened with blame, bounteous of accusation. She shut her lids then lifted them once more, stared at the ancient tree – streaks of the palest blue and wetted lashes.

"What is untrue, child?"

Soft, too soft, Bokusenō urged her to speak of it even though he knew all too well.

"We cannot – it's not possible…"

Cognizance pierced Sesshōmaru's mind, scythed back and forth against the cold of his viscera. It gorged on his nerves with the viciousness of a predator, ripped a piece of him, gone, lost forever. He was the one who gave voice to what Kagome would not utter aloud.

"You were with pup."

His grip loosened, involuntary backlash, and she slipped past his fingers, slinked to the ground, a cascade of dark hair and pallid flesh.

"I'm sorry – I'm _so sorry_ …"

She didn't wail, didn't scream anymore, quiet threnody, almost lyrical in its dulcet tones.

"I didn't mean to – I don't know why…"

Silence. A shiver of her spine. An arch of her neck. Bones cracking with a distinct sound. Then she shrieked.

"Tell me _why_!"

"I can only speculate, child. Do you still wish to know?"

She could only nod, nothing but undulations of lips and hair and skin – but she still forced a _please_ past her throat. It was too much, unbearable, incinerated her tongue.

"Your change was at early stages, unstable. Your body was unfit to carry life – but it will not be so in days to come."

Bokusenō's justifications sounded like an excuse to her ears, an anodyne to soothe her contrition, to camouflage the atrocity of her fault. Kagome couldn't care for the future, didn't want to care – only for the past.

"But I –"

"Enough, woman." Steel-armored voice. Gold-edged eyes. "It is in the past."

It was a lie – his vindication, his dispassion, _everything_. A slant of her neck, she didn't rise, but her eyes bore into his – neither white nor blue, only black, jet-black.

"Don't you dare tell me to _forget_. You don't know how it felt like… I can't –" She couldn't take in air, couldn't find even a breath of it. "You were not there! You were _not_ – Sesshōmaru…"

Sesshōmaru knelt before her – but he didn't touch her, didn't dare touch her, only gazed into the blackness of her eyes, willed his air into her lungs. It was she who reached for him, fingers curling into the folds of his kimono sleeves, shaking him lightly.

" _Why_ …were you not there?"

It was the last thing that came out of her mouth. Perhaps it was the lack of air, perhaps the intensity of his eyes – but she lost consciousness, deserted feeling, heard nothing more.

Even though she could not – would not – hearken to his voice any longer, Bokusenō addressed her. One last time. Compassion and sagacity and foreknowledge.

"Child, you have suffered much grief…but there is more to know, more I must tell you. Perhaps it is best to leave it be for now though, perhaps it is best if you returned at a later time – but you _must return_."

The tree yōkai appeared to have aged more in the mere span of their conversation, his leaves mottled with ochre, his bark veined with grey.

"I will bring her once more when she is calm."

Sesshōmaru took to the skies, took her with him; he didn't wait for Bokusenō's last words, but it didn't matter. He would return for certain – and then he would know.

"Yes, yes, you must. She will perish if you do not."


	48. You Are Cruel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1158

"Miko."

Kagome stirred at the sound of the male voice, smooth baritone, familiar and unwelcome – then she lifted her lids. Slow, heavy ascent, spine bending and straightening, she surveyed her surroundings – all but the man standing before her. She lay on a bed, in the centre of a cavernous chamber, piled with pelts of the finest ivory, soft furs and murmurs of lavishness. She took a few moments to gather herself, but she knew she couldn't avoid him for long. Low, husky, her voice echoed in the large chamber when she addressed him, when she raised her eyes to his level.

"Where are we?"

"At my mother's dwelling."

His revelation took her aback, stunned her for the merest of moments. She licked her lips, moistened her dry flesh.

"Your…mother's? Why would you bring me here?"

"You will know when you meet with her."

If she strained her ears, Kagome could hear the sigh in his words, but she didn't care – Kagome had other matters that racked her mind, less important but more wanted.

"I told Inuyasha I would return by nightfall. What time is it?"

"It is noon."

She would have sighed in relief had Sesshōmaru not said what he did after that.

"I shall tell the hanyō you will not return until the matter is settled, until we have our answers."

"Inuyasha..." The mere mention of the hanyō's name made her swallow thickly, struggle with the furs as she tried to rise. "My pack…they know nothing – _nothing_ of this. I need to return to them."

"No." Sesshōmaru might not have restrained her physically, might not have used force, yet the decisiveness in his tone was enough to give her pause, to make her regard him with suspicion.

"Bokusenō wishes to speak with you once more. There are things he has not yet told us."

A snort made its way past her lips, full of derision, but mostly weary.

"I've learned enough."

"I have not."

His admission spoke for itself, unraveled the yarn of doubt.

"So this is the real reason?"

It was redundant, the answer staring at her with eyes of gold and thin lips. Kagome scorned those eyes. They pierced right through her, held the secret of her regret, cogent of things he should have never known. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.

"Ask your questions, Sesshōmaru. I will answer on one condition."

An attrition of teeth, furor and sorrow in her voice, but provocation in her eyes, salient promise, as it slipped past her tongue, brushed against his ears.

"You must _never_ bring it up again."

Cool but hot, Kagome's voice washed over him, drained him. Sesshōmaru's gaze traveled over tawny skin, full breasts, met the blue copper of her irises. A crescent grin on her lips, languor and jaded glint in her eyes, she dared him to open his mouth.

"We shall speak of this later, miko."

Sesshōmaru wished she wouldn't look at him with those eyes. Whether anger or guilt or a mix of both, he couldn't tell what it was, what Kagome saw in him, but it made his skin burn, feel heavier, cling to his flesh. He knew her blame fell more on herself, her reactions had more than proven it, yet he considered never asking his questions if only not to have her look at him like that ever again. The ghost of life, blood of his blood, would urge his tongue – only that – they were both aware, but neither of them would mention it now.

"My mother awaits you in the gardens. Talk with her when you have bathed and eaten."

He didn't know what response to expect, but surely not the one she gave – a chuckle, full of dismissal and loftiness.

"Why?"

It was not his place to tell her, not his right – hence he kept his silence once more. She sighed, spared him a glance, hawk-eyed and silent warning before he left.

"Don't tell Inuyasha anything he's not supposed to know."

A nod of his chin, tacit farewell, and he turned to leave. Sesshōmaru gave her his back, pretended the wetness under her lashes was sweat, the salt in the air an illusion of a scent.

* * *

Sesshōmaru meandered through the lush gardens, sought his mother's presence before he left. He found her amidst the bountiful trees, wafts carrying the scent of cherry blossoms. The woman who stood before him was an eyeful of silver and scarlet. Apples and plumpness were her lips, argent and silk her hair, vanilla and moonflowers her scent. She laughed a songlike laughter, and the wind laughed in consort with her.

"You come and go as you please, my son. Where to, this time?"

"I must speak with the hanyō."

"Strange guests, ningen females, you bring me – always."

The overt satire in the elegance of her voice effectively raised his guard.

"Though perhaps the miko is not what she seems to be at first glance."

The way Inukimi chose to phrase this, how the gold of her eyes shimmered with secrets untold, olden wiles, warned Sesshōmaru there was more to his mother's words, more than she implied. Sesshōmaru scowled, thin lines, mild vexation on the expanse of his forehead.

"I do not care for your wiles, mother. If you wish to say something then do so."

There was that laughter again, full of waggishness and knowledge.

"She is not your mate."

It was more of a question and less of a statement. _Is she to be your mate_ was what his mother truly asked. Though it was obvious, Sesshōmaru gave the answer she solicited.

"No."

_She is not, she will never be._

A frown above her brows and a dip in the hollow of her cheeks, Inukimi huffed.

"Then why bring her to me?"

It was the one question Sesshōmaru wished to avoid for a while longer, but he couldn't delay it forever, anyhow. His mother would know, soon, much sooner than he would have liked. Perhaps it would be best if she heard the truth from Sesshōmaru's lips.

"She lost a pup."

Inukimi stilled – and the wind stilled with her. For the barest of moments. When she next spoke, her voice was soft but cold, the softest and coldest tones he had ever heard from her.

"Yours?"

Sesshōmaru kept quiet, didn't bother voicing what was self-evident – and she laughed again, her laughter pure, reminiscent of bell-like lightning amidst electrum skies.

"Of course. You are cruel, my son…crueler than I."

The barest split of woe overlay the laughter in her voice, but Sesshōmaru could still hear it, see it in the slender bow of her spine when she turned her back at him. There was nothing more to be said on either part, so he took his leave.

 _Cruel_ , she said. It was true for both of them. His mother could only show cruel affection to him. It was the only kind she harbored, the only kind they could both accept.


	49. Now That Is an Amusing Thought

Dissatisfaction pooled low in Kagome's abdomen, fused with the liquid heat melting her insides as she promenaded along the gardens. Damn Sesshōmaru and damn Bokusenō and damn her. What she had told Sesshōmaru had been a lie – a lie she desperately wanted to believe but couldn't. She did _not_ wish to remember, did _not_ want to dwell in the past – but memory was _all_ that remained. _Nothing_ , Kagome had nothing else, no name to whisper, no body to mourn, no grave to visit. Crimson pain and _whys_ were all she had, all she knew for a very long time.

Sesshōmaru had no right to come into her life, demand answers, rekindle the coals of recollection – but _he did_. Seeing him once more, perfection and regality and impassivity, uprooted old-felt aches, things she had striven to bury deep inside. It was improbable, she knew, an eidolon of overlaid sensation, of delusive lethe. A sip of time, of things that never die. What was could never be again – and what she felt now was a raindrop of pain, a snowstorm of rage. Meeting him again was one fluid gesture, like stepping back in time. Their talk was cold and burned like the sun. Try as she might, Kagome could not dismiss past indiscretions, could not forget stolen possessions. Once her soul started spinning again, feelings could no longer be restrained. She had swapped agony for oblivion, crushed the end within her stride. Now, it was coming back, more vicious, more potent than before, intent on devouring her whole.

Kagome was swathed in whorls and brushes of dreams with every step she took – an embroidery with silver-white threads, a painting of cherubic smiles and soft skin. It spun slices of sweetness, memories that should have been hers, now turned to ashes, nightmares. It had been too long since she had thought of the child she had lost, of what his or her face would have looked like – but _now_ it was all she could think of.

"I know you are there, little ningen."

Mellow and sophisticated, the female voice washed over Kagome like spring-water on May's Eve, summoned her closer. Lips the shade of wild cherries, pure gold for eyes, voluptuous curves and sirenic skin – Sesshōmaru's mother was beauty personified, an otherworldly sovereign, very much like her son.

"Then you must also know I'm no _little ningen_."

Honey in her tone but vinegar in her eyes, sweet and sour, Kagome tilted her chin back, refused to be ensnared by the hauteur of the female yōkai.

"Indeed." The gold of her eyes hardened, roved over Kagome's body, saw past flesh and bone. "I sense the change."

Inukimi then hummed, a sway of hips and silver strands.

"Very well. What name do you claim then?"

Not one for decorum and overly tired, Kagome ceased all antagonism. There was no need to make enemies where none could be found. Sesshōmaru's mother seemed more intrigued than disapproving of Kagome's presence – or at least she gave that impression.

"Kagome. What may I call you?"

A sigh lathered Inukimi's chest, snaked within the swell of her cleavage. She tapped a finger to her chin, almost thoughtful.

"What should you call me indeed? It has been such a long time since I have been called anything other than _mother_. The last person who uttered my name was my late mate."

Kagome reeled back at that but kept her composure. If what Inukimi claimed was true then she led a terribly…lonely existence. Her voice though was soft, unlike before, when the miko asked this in the least conspicuous manner she could muster.

"You have no friends, no visitors, except Sesshōmaru?"

"I have neither need nor use for such."

Inukimi shrugged, a graceful motion of her shoulders, then chuckled, as if she didn't care at all – and maybe she didn't.

"You may use my name, yes. You may call me Madoka."

A curt nod and Kagome discarded all courtesies but the absolute necessary.

"Why am I here, Madoka-san?"

Inukimi's mouth curled, hints of grin and carmine and satisfaction.

"Sharp like metal yet blunt as well. You are an interesting female."

If Kagome didn't know any better, and who was to say she did, she could swear Sesshōmaru's mother was pleased with her, approving of her character. What Inukimi next uttered though, erased all such musings from Kagome's mind.

"Shall we play a game, Kagome? An answer for a question and a question for an answer?"

The way Madoka's lips gleamed, insidious crimson, told Kagome it wasn't merely a suggestion.

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"You can always decline. You may even leave. My son will not be pleased but that is an answer for a question not yet asked."

Such delectation, such knowledge in Madoka's smile, kindness and cruelty both molded in one tilt of carmine. Kagome's reply, too, was an antinomy, both pleased and dismal.

"Fine. I will ask again then. Why am I here?"

Cocking her head to the side, Inukimi laughed, undulated with zest, her breasts soft vessels of its huskiness.

"Because my son is cruel but awkward as all males are."

Inukimi's wiles were beginning to tire Kagome out at this point. She should have known nothing was ever that easy. The cunningness in Madoka's shiny depths, the willful smirk on her lips when she turned to acknowledge her told Kagome as such.

"I should have known this would be a tricky game. Sesshōmaru warned me I wouldn't like to make your acquaintance once in the past."

The wind carried Madoka's chuckle, breezed past Kagome's ears, all woman and taunt.

"Did he now? He must have cared for you then – as much as one such as he can care. Then again, he lay with you. I think it goes beyond simple care? Consider this my question."

Kagome didn't take the bait but she did answer truthfully.

"It was strictly a matter of a necessity."

Inukimi's eyes widened for a mere fragment of a second – then she erupted in peals of laughter, melodious, full of delight.

"A necessity, you say? My son had _need_ of you, of a human female? Now that is an amusing thought."

The woman could be as amused as she willed, it made no difference to Kagome, but she would answer her original question, all wiles be damned.

"I will rephrase my first question. Why did he wish for me to speak with you?"

A huff and the snare of a smirk, gaiety slathered in Madoka's features, but didn't reach her eyes. No more of that laughter now. Something flashed in the woman's eyes, adumbral, pupils distended, emotions that didn't belong to one such as she. Kagome would have sighed, told her she wouldn't continue this game, if Madoka hadn't laughed again. It was not the same laughter, however.

"Because you lost a pup – and I know what that feels like."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1148


	50. Truly a Pity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 803

Kagome stared at the older woman, at the reflection of what she would become. Madoka's eyes had eclipsed with deep-buried ache, with shadows of things unspoken. If she allowed obsession to grow and suppurate, seeds of old-suffered wounds, long-dried, watered for forlornness' sake, would these be her eyes then? A sigh made its way out of her lips, slightly bitter, notes of melancholia composed into a sound.

"This might sound rude and unkind, but I don't know you well enough to talk of these matters with you. Even if I did, I still wouldn't. With that said, I _am sorry_ for your loss."

Madoka chuckled, chimes of mellifluence and perception.

"Yes, I gathered. You have not shared this with anyone, no?"

A shrug, not as elegant a motion as Madoka's, yet still comely.

"What does it matter? Did you talk with someone when it happened?"

Hints of curiosity layered the latter question, delicately uttered, despite the thick veneer of indifference, as if Kagome was afraid to know the answer. Madoka's smile was a mirror of the past, too red, laden with self-condemnation. It appeared that even beings made of ice had things to regret.

"No, I did not – and I lost my mate for my foolishness."

"I have no mate to speak of."

Admission tasted like a pome of astringency, poisonous fruit but easy to swallow. Inukimi hummed, introspection in the gilded luster of her irises.

"You do have a pack though."

Kagome's nails sank into the fleshly part of her palms, blood drained from her lips to spill inside her fists.

"They don't need to know. What good will it do to tell them?"

It was Madoka's turn to stare at the young woman now, at the reflection of what she used to be – her turn to sigh that same sigh.

"What of your change then? Will you hide that as well? For how long? They will know…eventually."

It wasn't foolishness that laved Kagome's features then, that moved her lips, but stubbornness – the kind that only came with youth.

"I will cross that bridge when I come to it."

Laughter snaked around gracile wood, lathered on rouge petals. Madoka's gaze held perspicacity, traces of experience – the kind that only came with age.

"It will come sooner than you might think."

Kagome appraised Sesshōmaru's mother, delved into her black-slit eyes, eyes that spoke more than her lips ever would. The miko's posture stiffened, became guarded. Sharing the same pain did not make them beings of the same ilk, she reminded herself – merely women.

"Why do you care? If you're worried that I might trick your son into mating me out of some sense of misguided honor then you need have no fear."

"Oh I can tell you would not." Canny – eyes, laughter, words. "Perhaps it would be easier for both of you if you did."

Kagome's mouth curled, downcast, soured. If there was one thing she detested, it was half-words and canniness – and Madoka throve in all of them.

"If you have something to say then why not just come out and say it?"

Madoka's laughter was untainted, hums of the fairest music, an utter contrast to her guiles.

"You do resemble my son in the strangest of ways. Truly a pity…"

Kagome could not help the question that tangled in her tongue, poured out of her mouth before she could halt it.

"A pity?"

"The life you lost."

A sough of _pity_ , a sashay of hips, and Madoka was gone.

* * *

The sky was dark but star-plaited, bedecked with azurites and amethysts, when Sesshōmaru returned to his mother's sky fortress. He followed the scents of vanilla and moonflowers, made for his mother's pavilion, in the farthermost corner of her dwelling, his strides slow and leaden. There was no need to announce his presence or dally with pleasantries, not that he was ever one to do as such.

"Did you speak with her?"

The smile that curved his mother's lips foretold prevarication, amusement for her, vexation for him. Her next words validated his initial assumption, told him nothing and everything.

"Yes, I did."

A growl spilled into the sumptuous garden, merged with the hush of the wind, gave an edge to the serenity of this place.

"I am in no mood for your games, mother."

Madoka remained undeterred by his less than cordial mood, quite used to her son's volatile tendencies. Sesshōmaru had inherited his sire's shortness in some things – and had never outgrown this bad habit.

"Neither was she."

Sesshōmaru, too, was undeterred by her whimsical nature, did not relent on his questions. His mother would answer if he pressed harder, though she seldom gave the answer he sought – or liked. This time was no different.

"What did she say?"

"That she would rather suffer than share her pain – as would you."


	51. Kazusane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1206

Kagome lay on the soft furs, eyes unseeing, lips ashen, sealed. Dark dwelt in the chamber, inside her, slithered with soft sibilant sounds, licks of heat, pulsing. When Sesshōmaru's yōki touched the grounds, moved towards her, life almost returned, circulated within her blood, warmed her skin. She didn't welcome him but didn't turn him away either.

"You have returned."

Sesshōmaru stood in the center of the chamber, close yet not, strokes of gold against her flesh, gleaming light.

"The hanyō will wait for a week – but no more. You will have to speak with him if time needs to be extended."

His voice cooled the fever he brought with him, the swelter of his closeness.

"How did you convince him?"

"I subdued him physically."

Kagome was neither surprised nor bothered by this. It was better than the alternative, than having her sufferance made known to her pack. Inuyasha would never forgive himself for not suspecting, not guessing the truth – and she had enough regrets for all of them.

"Did you hurt him?"

"No."

Cold, devoid of arrogance. Kagome stared at him, agates afire, cutting, asked with her eyes for more than that simple word – and he obliged.

"Merely his pride."

A chuckle filled the fur-lavished chamber, feminine – but it was a humorless sound. She shrugged then sighed.

"I suppose it is as well. Words would not have made a difference."

Leaning back against the pelts, Kagome closed her eyes. Her body spoke for her, urged him to leave, whispered she would like to be alone, but it went unheeded. Quiet footsteps, near soundless intrusion. It wasn't his refusal that disgruntled Kagome, but the implications of it and his intentions. Gazing down at her, voice flat, if a bit careful, Sesshōmaru answered the question suspended in the silence between them.

"These are my quarters."

Kagome didn't need to read his inner thoughts – they were written on his features with calligraphic letters, lacquered with a matte shade of steel.

 _I_ _am not leaving_ _._

There were not many things she could do to avoid this situation save for forcefully removing him or leaving herself – and she was too weary for either. There weren't many things to say either. Just one.

"Suit yourself."

His eyes flashed silver-gold in the dark, like raw metal – and she gave a small nod. The furs dipped as he lowered himself beside her, not close but not far either. Silence blanketed the chamber once more, apprehensive – until Sesshōmaru pried his lips open, asked what she already expected.

"Was it a son?"

Her throat constricted, spasms and acid, gliding down her abdomen, seething in a torrid mass there, yet Kagome pushed the words out of her mouth.

"It was too early to tell – but I felt it was so."

No motion, no respiration, only pause, heavy and recriminating – then a name.

"Kazusane."

Kagome repeated the sound, felt the consonants and vowels slide on her tongue, sweet, beloved name. The kanji which comprised it were old, rarely used for such words in her time, yet she recognized their meaning.

"The true…first? Is that… _his_ name?"

Sesshōmaru didn't give vocal affirmation, he needn't have to.

"We shall visit Bokusenō once more in the morning. Sleep, Kagome."

Perhaps it was that he used her name, perhaps that he was lying beside her, but Kagome was aware of many things, things she hadn't cared to notice up until that moment. No – that was a lie. Kagome had taken notice, but she had built such high walls, had spurned everything _his_ into the darkest depths, into the abyss of reminiscence, because she couldn't stand the very thought of them. Slowly, insidiously, those walls were crumbling down, leaving behind only ruins, scattered pain and ashes. Her mind was spiraling into paths she hated to revisit, realizations too sharp, intrinsic. Perhaps Sesshōmaru wasn't as heartless as she had made him to be, perhaps she wasn't the only one whose child was taken upon senseless, cruel happenstance. Yes, she was aware of all those things – and _more_.

Illusions of heat and nearness, of languid breaths, as if they would disappear without a trace were she to close her eyes, plunge into that abyss. Sesshōmaru was there this time, warm skin and stillness, strained voice and ache – but for how long? Kagome didn't want to accept anything he was willing to give now, couldn't forgive his past absence – she couldn't forgive herself, much less he. Why should she forgive him, why should she allow to be forgiven? If she relinquished her bitterness, sealed that void in her womb, then she would have truly nothing left. _Nothing_.

Time was such a chimerical concept, whimsical. It crawled along the expanse of her skin, not felt yet, all the same, slinking. How many seconds had passed? How many minutes, hours, days? How many weeks, months, since she had lost that which could never be reclaimed? She had ascended the ladder of chaos, step by step, only to descend once more. There was no need to scream, to puncture her flesh or spill her blood, Kagome knew, had accepted at last, and cursed him for it. Sesshōmaru had stirred the old traumas, with immaculate patience. He had broken the thin layer of cast she had so carefully applied, shredded the bindings, scraped the tender scabs – till they had bled and festered, their wounds too raw. All of it, her fault. Her body had borne lash after lash, and Kagome had been the one to give him the whip.

She had allowed him to wrap her in a cocoon of treacherous feelings, of empathy. Unwanted yet undeniable was his presence. Transient, not meant to last but lure and entrap. Each time she inhaled his warmth, took in his scent, she lost a little more of her immunity, her strength. Here she was now, her sole companion those very memories and that very man – invidious desire, _still_ coveted. Kagome could almost _feel_ him if she surrendered all enmity, nullified the venom in her veins. Moments lasting no more than a wolf's howl, a raindrop's life – hallucinations _too_ _real_. Baser instincts knew no pain, could abide by no logic. There was only unwanted want – and his scent. Sakura blossoms blood-drenched, gold slathered on skin, like lust and wildness – like _her_ , most of all, he smelled of her. Her lips parted, her lungs swelled, or she imagined they did. Inhalation. Exhalation. Again and again. It came and went, as it pleased, little by little, unraveling the web of her sanity, thawing her resistance.

Kagome turned on her side, despised the wetness on her cheeks, in her eyes, her damned weakness. She pretended that she didn't feel the ghost of the past, didn't breathe the fallacy of affection lying next to her – until sleek muscle coiled around her waist, pressed her against him. It was no mere touch, had too much of heat, of animal instincts in it to be called that – too much of _him_. Trailing down the slope of her neck, the swell of her breasts, it ignited the underlying need, killed the churning rage. Sesshōmaru needn't have done more. Of all the things he owned, were purely _his_ , she only yearned for one. Kagome loathed it – _loved_ _it_ – when he gave it.


	52. There Are Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 817

Bokusenō's forest was as it had always been – but Kagome could not see with the same eyes, could not hear with the same ears. The green, the voices, the light, everything was duller, quieter. That sentient, writhing pulsation, that torrent of sensation, of weightless time, slid against her skin, alive yet unfelt, ebbed under the crest of her unease, layers of cold sweat. It was Kagome who spoke first this time, she who greeted the ancient tree yōkai.

"Greetings, Bokusenō-sama. You have asked for me?"

Bokusenō opened his eyes, hummed, languid motions, like a pendulum made of foliage and wood.

"Yes, come closer, child. There are things I must tell you, things you must know."

One slow step – and another. Close, and closer she came, until she stood under the shadow of prescience, the herald of unfavorable news. Kagome licked her lips, wished for this to be over in one clean-cut slash, urged the elder yōkai for such with her gaze. Intense. Piercing. A tempest raged in her eyes, turbulent and fierce and wind-ridden.

"Regarding my… _our_ change?"

Bark bent, Bokusenō gave a slight nod – a single leaf swaying, earth-green tangling in her hair.

"I am afraid I bear ill fortune for you, child. You will not survive the change if you remain as is."

His words cut through her like leaf-blades, sharpened into fine edges. Kagome took a step back, instinctive. One question churned inside her body, slithered and snaked like a living serpent, its scales hot and smooth, gliding against her viscera, flaying tissue and organs in its course. When she parted her lips, when she vociferated it, that serpent leapt out of her mouth, took her flesh and blood with it.

"I will…die?"

"I am afraid so. You yet possess a mortal body – unlike Sesshōmaru. The strain of the change will be too much for you."

Such heaviness, such somber verity, Bokusenō's voice held, that she found herself deprived of breath, of words, of life, as if the tree yōkai had reaped that delicate fruit before its time. Sesshōmaru took charge then, disengaged himself from silence and mere observation, his presence a bulk of hotness at her back.

"You implied ways to prevent this?"

Sesshōmaru's voice sundered the malaise sewn around her heart with wisp-like threads, unshackled the air trapped in her lungs. Kagome raised her eyes to the tree once more, awaited the answer he would give, the elixir for her salvation – but the old yōkai gave nothing of the sort.

"There are ways, yes. One will not be welcome and the other might not be a choice at all."

It rankled, his careful equivocation, his half-truths, for both she and Sesshōmaru. Perhaps the tree had no perception of time, perhaps he did not share the impatience of men, Kagome couldn't care which it was, but she needed to _know_. Sesshōmaru's anger was radiating, tangible, slathered on the slope of her back. He spoke for her again, aggression culminated in a growl of words, earned Kagome's gratitude with his action.

"Enough of your riddles. Tells us what must be done."

Bokusenō sighed, reproach and regret merged into a waft of wind – but he relinquished all subtlety, offered what they asked. He had thought to spare the miko a few last moments of peace, but nothing could elide the magnitude of her quagmire, he knew – and so he spoke of it.

"There are two ways to control the change, consume the power and not be consumed by it. Either through a mating bond with the male who shares the same change or by harnessing the Shikon's power."

Sesshōmaru stilled, ceased all sound and motion. Sultry, melting earth under her feet, Kagome lost sensation in her legs, felt as if she was sinking in quicksand. Inch by inch. It tried to devour her whole, to pull her into abysmal depths from whence she could never escape. Gripped by dolor, stretched thinly, she uttered what the tree merely hinted at, gave it substance – but still she sank, deep, and deeper.

"You mean I'll either have to mate _Sesshōmaru_ or use the Shikon?"

His name rang amidst the falling leaves, the smelted ground, too late to take it back, to pretend she never said it. A spasm, tight muscle, close, much too close, she felt him on the curve of her back – but he was cold, teeth of ice gnawing on her flesh, an immovable, harrowing _no_.

"Indeed."

Wearily, merely to hear him say it, Kagome asked what she knew needn't be asked.

"There is nothing else to be done?"

There was no hesitation on Bokusenō's part this time, no half-truths – only finality, grave, beyond doubt.

"Only death."

Kagome tasted the end in the word, tired, too tired, allowed the quicksand to take her, to feast on her fate.

"How long do I have before I…must decide?"

"I cannot tell, child – but not long. Perhaps a moon cycle, perhaps more…"


	53. I Swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 972

* * *

"The Shikon no Tama must _never_ be used for selfish reasons, for impure desires. It must be…wished away."

Kagome was speaking before she realized that she did, but what came out of her mouth made too much sense to be denied, was too strong to be discarded as mere possibility. It had to be done.

"Yes, yes, it must."

Bokusenō's assent alloyed with the nature, turned his leaves copper, touched by decay for the merest moment, but Kagome was too lost in her musings to take note. _It's almost complete – only a few shards missing._ The realization birthed more answers, new and unwelcome, though nothing was worse than what had already been revealed. Still, she asked them, brought them to life.

"What will happen to me then? Can you tell? Will I return to my time?"

A sigh breezed past her ears, hints of a chuckle woven within, as if he was weary of speaking to a child for so long – and perhaps he was.

"You cannot yet understand what the change truly is, can you, child?"

It was rhetorical, more of a slight chiding than anything – hence she kept her silence, allowed Bokusenō to shed light on his own time.

"It is a _soul bond_. A part of him always in you, a part of you always in him. If you wish to remain then you will. Like the Shikon, it will become your tether to this time."

 _Soul bond._ The words repeated themselves in her mind, soaked through layers of tissue, delved into the pith of her cells, until they were absorbed then sealed forever. Lips sapped, athirst for something to unmake those words, she found none – Kagome nodded at last.

"Thank you, Bokusenō-sama. Is there anything else I should know?"

Bokuseno's eyes lost their slit-shaped thinness, widened and rounded, their pale yellow aflame, bright like the sun.

"Life and death – there is no shame in either, young one…but you cannot have both."

 _You are dead while living – you cannot be this way._ How true and real it was when spoken by age, when thrust into the wind – and how facile to accept. Kagome chuckled, the sound soft, melding with the zephyrs. Despair tasted like plum wine – the more she drank of it the less sweet its savor. Glass after glass. Little by little. It was time to end her addiction – to fully live and fully die.

* * *

Sesshōmaru had never hearkened to the wind as he did so now. It whispered many things, hymns of the earth, songs of the sea, of places unknown to ken, untouched by yōkai and ningen alike – and it spoke of woman, of melted cinnamon, of primeval desires. She walked before him, each step taking her further away – but her scent wafted into the distance between them, thick and full of her, of words unuttered, of deeds that couldn't be undone. When Kagome spoke, she gave voice to none of these things, but Sesshōmaru already knew she wouldn't.

"I need to return to my pack, resume the hunt for the jewel shards."

His eyes stroked the contours of her back, glided over the arc of her neck – sinuous bones and leather and a flash of skin. She didn't turn to look at him, only gave her back, kept her strides even, but her gait was leaden, strained with implications untold. Sesshōmaru vocalized them, one shared, one silenced.

"You will not use the Shikon." _You will not ask me to mate you either._

Her laughter merged with the wind, an amalgam of daring and resolution. It irked him for some reason, how soft it was yet hardened. The woman laughed like warriors before battle, like this would be her last laughter. Her words were no different, held the same qualities – war cries forged into solemn oaths.

"I have my duty and honor and pride – as have you."

The muscles in his thighs burned, blazed red, redder than blood flowing into swollen veins. Sesshōmaru wanted to quicken his steps, grab her by the arm, smother her in his grip. He wanted to kiss her like the last man who ever would – but he didn't. The sound of that laughter came as it went, abated with the wind, and she spoke again, tore her way through the delirium of his haze.

"I have a favor to ask."

If she knew the thoughts that slinked into his mind, like licks of wildfire, of untamed things, she wouldn't ask. If she turned back, the slightest tilt of her neck, the merest slant of her eyes, she would see, she would know – but she didn't. Sesshōmaru could only voice one of these thoughts, keep another buried inside, and leash the impulse to do much more than merely that.

"Speak your mind." _Tell me what you need, what I_ can _give you._

 _Her_ need, he would satisfy, anything she wanted, but _his_ need couldn't be sated by her. It was overwhelming, a clangor of infant instincts, though he knew neither where it stemmed nor where it would end.

"Meet me here in one moon cycle – then take me away. I don't want my family or my pack to know. I will say farewell, tell one I choose the other – and disappear."

"Where would you wish to go?"

"Take me where they cannot find me, where I can be _myself_. No more lies, no more pains, no more regrets. Swear _that_ to me."

Then she turned to him, with eyes not of this world, the blue hue flaked, streamed with black, lined with white, and she _saw_ , she _knew_. The wind quieted, his muscles seethed hotter. For the barest moment, Sesshōmaru thought that perhaps she would curse him, curse the naked urge staring at her – but she didn't. There was only one thing left for him to say this time.

"I swear."


	54. His Pledge to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1429

Sesshōmaru returned to their promised place after a moon cycle – and she was there. He did not ask questions that needn't be uttered, did not offer words she wouldn't accept, only waited and watched – her eyes, her lips, her skin. Color had leeched away, palliated with the touch of death – silver-blue, pale-crimson, ashen-white. Only her voice held warmth, filaments of life, yet that, too, was not what it used to be.

"I'm ready to leave."

There was no umbra of doubt in her words, nothing but huskiness. He saw no warrior but merely woman. It moved his body, made him seek that sound, that drum in her pulse, heat concealed beneath leather and tiers of distance. Physical contact was not enough, never enough, when it came to them – but he knew of no other way, no other means to give her what she needed. Sesshōmaru wrapped her in his pelt, in sinewy muscles, closeness and hot skin – then he took her away.

Kagome didn't perceive many things during their journey in the skies, but those she did feel were the only ones that mattered. His scent, how tight his clutch was, lean thews coiled around her ribcage, the way his Adam's apple fell and rose each time her lips glided there. She never raised her chin, never met his eyes – she knew what she would see. Gold made emotions lucent, glaring, more real than they should be. It was a dangerous hue – and Kagome relished the dark, the illusion of safety in it, would rather take the swelter of his body than the deepness of his eyes. Only when he landed in a place familiar, unmistakable, allowed her to slip from his hold, did she lift her gaze to stare at him.

"I should have known you'd bring me here."

Her voice brimmed with laughter even if she did not laugh. Kagome was amused, if a bit resigned.

"Do you dislike it?"

It was pointless to deny it, not that she had any urge to do so. Sesshōmaru knew she didn't, could see pleasure snaking around her in tangible shades. It made her eyes bluer, her lips redder, her skin glossier.

"No. I like your mother's home, but she's a…strange woman."

A chuckle vibrated in her throat, split her lips, white teeth gleaming. It was mellow, full of mirth and slight vexation. Sesshōmaru closed his eyes, felt the sound sliding against his neck, titillating, urging him to merge it with one of his own. Strange women indeed – both his mother and she, the sole beings to elicit such reactions in him.

"You will not be seeing her often. Mother likes to keep to herself."

Her chuckle morphed into laughter then, sumptuous, lavished with feminine hues, and his lids rose. Sesshōmaru was drawn to that glint in her eyes, that curve of her lips, visceral attraction. No woman laughed as she did – or made him want to laugh with her. She settled for a smile at last, matted with youth, with traces of the woman he met a year ago, almost playful.

"Don't we all?"

A slant of his neck, the most he could give her, for if he were to laugh with her, it would be madness.

"I shall visit," was all he said instead.

Something flashed in her eyes, a mixture of surprise and hope and reservation. Lips thinned, her smile melted away, exchanged for straightness.

"You don't have to."

He gave no verbal response this time, but his body spoke for itself. More of a purr, less than a rumble, it roused tingles in her spine.

_I will._

* * *

Days came and passed in one flutter of lashes, one lick of lips. Kagome remembered being here once before, yet she could appreciate neither its beauty nor its structures at the time. Her sight perceived things differently now, her mind was calm, could revel in its otherworldly luminescence. A sky fortress of white stone and moonbeam towers, layers upon layers of wind and smooth bone columns, contoured around luxury too lush, desires and wiles of old. Twisting halls, arched chambers, floors of marble, cool and pure as snow. The atmosphere was light, swelled with femininity, yet adorned masculine elements as well – mainly in _his_ quarters, now hers as well.

Kagome slept in his bed, in his furs, in his scent. Perhaps it was wrong of her, but she was well past the point of caring for wrong and right, of scorning his memories, his touch, his lust. They awakened once more, consonant with images of warm, writhing bodies, lips and tongues tracing private curves of hip and thigh. Maybe the furs were to blame, so alike the pelt he kept on himself at all times, or maybe everything inside this chamber was so cognizant of the will and character of its master, that his presence was stitched into every seam of every object. Kagome realized but, still, cared nothing of it. Her nights were full of him, of what was, of what could never be again – and she was fine with it.

The garden came to be her favored area, bathed in alabastrine light, abounding with sakura and birches and maple trees. Willowy and gracile and polychromous – bark, leaves, blossoms. The wind deluged the lucent space, all gilded structures of this plane, rippled and circulated, skin-felt and ever present. A ceaseless stream, a flux of sensation, to float but never sink within it, and _more_ than that. It fluctuated, bespoke of incohesive things, mirrored a mosaic visage on its wafts, much like the voices in Bokusenō's forest. Kagome loved this garden, visited it often, if only to take in the air, let it inundate her lungs. It misted and curled around her, leeching all shadow and light from her, making her forget she was living on borrowed time. Sometimes, Madoka would join her, and they would sip tea and talk of inconsequential things – and, sometimes, the canny yōkai would stir the conversation to less inconsequential things. Like now.

"My son gave you a name to remember."

It was so sudden that Kagome didn't think before that name spilled from her lips, softened the rouge flesh with its honeyed consonants and airy vowels.

"Kazusane."

Madoka hummed, as if pleased by the sound of Kagome's voice when she uttered it.

"Yes, I know. It is a fitting name – and his pledge to you."

That word, _pledge_ , was heavier, accented, gave Kagome pause. She had learned by now that if she veiled her curiosity, pretended Madoka's hints went unheard, that the elder woman would simply play with her wording more. Hence, Kagome no longer bothered with feigns or dismissals.

"What do you mean?"

A half-smirk tilted Inukimi's lips, a peek of canines, coquettish. The woman might not have catered to guests before Kagome arrived, yet she seemed to have found means of entertainment with these games – more and more lately.

"Sesshōmaru is proud, too proud in some things. What he cannot speak with words, he shall do with actions. You are aware of this, no?"

"Yes, but I still don't understand."

It was blunt, much too blunt, even for Kagome's tastes, but she felt rather weary today. If Madoka wished to reach a conclusion, she would have to do it without the fanfare she favored this time – and she did.

"He will neither mate another female nor sire another pup."

A chuckle resounded, slightly cynic. If that was all Madoka wished to say then it was redundant. Brow arched, Kagome stared at her with a glint of wryness.

"I didn't think he would. His choices are not very appealing to him."

There was only the rustling of feathers as Madoka hid her smirk behind her fan, but slyness still dwelt in the gold of her eyes, laid bare for Kagome to witness, uninhibited.

"If that is what you wish to believe."

Eyes half-lidded, streaked with black, Kagome regarded her with sharpness, implied she had gone too far.

"I will not play this game, Madoka-san."

A hum slipped through the gold-feathered fan, haughty, almost a huff.

"You are too stubborn – like my son. Will it kill you to enjoy life before it is gone?"

Laughter welled in Kagome's lungs, tethered when it reached her throat, dallied with her tongue – she only allowed a dry chuckle.

"That was not a very tasteful jest."

Another hum, closer to a huff – but Kagome could tell Madoka was more amused than slighted.

"I suppose it wasn't."

It was Kagome's turn to smirk, to tease and issue a game.

"You should take your own advice, Madoka-san."


	55. You Lie to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1645

It was the first time Sesshōmaru came to visit her since he brought her to his mother's fortress. Under the cherry blossoms, beneath the spring sun, she was the vestige of life – a wood nymph donned in white fur. Her complexion spoke for her affliction, but Sesshōmaru would rather ask how she was than speak of his desires. They would be unwelcome, unforgivable, if he voiced them – and so he kept them inside.

"How are you faring?"

"I'm well." A smile. A lie. "Madoka-san has been pleasant company, more often than not."

Her words gave him pause, the beginnings of a frown.

"Mother allows you to use her name?"

Kagome chuckled, eyes gleaming with a vitality she was surely not feeling.

"Is that a crime or a great discourtesy?"

"No." That frown lessened until no trace remained, only the gold of his eyes, slightly perplexed. "Merely attachment. It is rare when it happens."

"I can believe that."

She laughed then – the sound stroked his ears, glided over the arced ends. Need awakened, struggled beneath layers of compulsion, clawed to be unshackled, and she must have _seen_ , she must have _known_. How she averted her gaze, the way she swallowed her laughter, told him as such, spoke louder than even her change of subject.

"Would you like some tea?"

No, he didn't want tea – unless he sipped it from her lips.

"I must leave. Perhaps another time."

"Perhaps."

 _There will be no other time_. The pallid sheen of her skin, the ashen luster of her eyes, everything of hers, whispered this to him.

* * *

Today could be the last time she promenaded the gardens, enjoyed tea with Madoka, relished the spring air. Kagome felt it in the thinness of her blood, the weakness of her bones. Perhaps Madoka felt it as well – she would have never asked such questions or used such bluntness otherwise.

"Why do you not mate him? The bond can be unmade if you wish for it later."

The vicinity of the end, the bare reality of it, unchained Kagome's tongue – and she gave a portion of the truth Madoka had so artfully tried to extract from her all this time.

"He has not asked."

A flicker of hauteur and laughter lighted the gold hue of Madoka's irises. If the yōkai indulged in uncouth sounds such as snorts, Kagome guessed she would have.

"Neither have you."

A sigh toiled in Kagome's throat, but she could neither swallow nor release it. Gaze downcast, as if shamed to admit such things, she gave Madoka another portion of her truth.

"I don't…have that right."

"Nonsense." Inukimi huffed, her eyes turning the color of burnt caramel, dusked with disbelief, opaque annoyance. "If there is a female who has that right then she is standing right here."

Kagome laughed – but it was an unpleasant sound, filled with self-recrimination.

"I lost that right when I lost…Kazusane."

The name didn't warm her soul this time – it churned, licks of lava melding with hot blood, tearing her asunder from the inside out as she uttered it. Inukimi cast a glance at her, a scintilla of curiosity.

"Now it is you who speaks in riddles."

Kagome did sigh then, laughed that bitter laughter – and gave Madoka the last part of her truth.

"Did you want the pup you lost, Madoka-san? Because I didn't – not at first. Only later, _too late_. I wanted him _so much_ then…"

Vocalizing her guilt, sharing this with someone else, was liberating, didn't hurt as much as Kagome thought it would – but the truth never changed, never could.

"Ah I see – but such is youth."

Yes, Madoka could understand, could grant forgiveness, but Kagome couldn't – they both knew that.

"You think he would blame you if you confessed to him of such?"

Kagome's smile rivaled the cherry blossoms – lovesome and fragile and ephemeral.

"No more than I."

* * *

Sesshōmaru could feel there was something amiss, terribly wrong, before he even landed, stepped foot into his mother's abode. The wind brimmed with foreknowledge, pressed down on his shoulders, neither light nor scentless. Blossoms scattered, fallen before their time, withered and stripped of their aroma. Inukimi's voice echoed in the density of the air, cut through this precipitance of dread, no longer lilting, thick of all the things the wind murmured.

"You are late, my son – but not _too_ late."

Madoka needn't have explained more, Sesshōmaru wasn't listening either way – he was racing through halls and corridors, features strung, pulled tight with awareness. Her scent wafted to his nostrils – but it neither calmed him nor roused his wants. It wasn't that kind of scent, not this time, held no intoxication – cinnamon strangled under quietus, smothered by unearthly odors. She smelled not of woman but separation, ruinous sleep, soon to come, much too soon. Her voice, too, was laden with all those things, another kind of huskiness, but her smile –

"You came, Sesshōmaru."

"Do not speak."

The command slashed across his cheeks, festered in his mouth, forced its way through arid tongue and clenched teeth. She merely smiled wider, brighter, both a blessing and an anathema.

"If I don't speak now then when? I must tell you things, things I cannot take with me."

His lids descended, his mouth locked, aggression trapped, raging within – then he composed himself, came closer. Sesshōmaru knelt beside her, stared at the whiteness of her eyes, lips, skin. A nod, strained, nothing except dilated pupils and silence, but she didn't ask for more, carried on after a licking of lips.

"When I first learned I was pregnant, I was filled with denial. I wished it had not happened. It was…foolish – but I was young and scared. By the time I came to love the life growing inside me, it was too late. You _must_ know… I truly _loved_ _him_. He should not have been taken from _us_ …he should not have –"

Perhaps it was the scent of salt and sorrow, perhaps the frailty of her neck in his grip, bones made brittle, breakable, Sesshōmaru couldn't tell what it was, what he wanted to do. Quick, painless death or –

"No more lies, no more pains, no more regrets – that is what you said to me."

The words emanated from his chest, rumbling sounds, thunder-streaked, nails prickled the sides of her neck, strips of thin skin. That smile touched her lips once more, lovelier, viler than ever before.

"Yes, I did – and there aren't, there will be no more."

Sesshōmaru felt her vocal cords move under his clutch, proof of lingering life, though there was none to be found in her words – and that was unacceptable. Wrath coalesced with despair beneath taut skin, inside his blood vessels, pressured him to act. He would unmake this, he would not allow her to leave him, no matter the means, the promise of hatred – but he _couldn't_. There was only one thing to prey upon, one thing to use against her.

"Yet you lie to me…you never say what you need."

Kagome kept quiet, even though his digits uncoiled, slackened, delicacy in his grasp, in his strokes – but such intensity in his eyes, gold veined with crimson, so much ardor as she had never seen in him before. It chained her own voice, stole any reply she could have given.

"If you _still_ will not speak then you leave me with no choice."

It was a warning, given again, and again, until there was no more restraint, no tether to hold him back. Lips on the slope of her neck, tongue sliding, smearing wetness over the beat of her pulse – but no teeth, not yet.

"Tell me to stop."

A growl, venereal, drenched in guttural undertones – now teeth scraping, heavy with intent, with leashed imminence.

"Tell me, woman."

She didn't speak, never told him to stop, not even when canines grazed the curvature of her neck, back and forth, sank and broke through bloodless skin. Sesshōmaru revitalized her fading pulse with his intrusion, gave her energy even as he took her as his own – the moisture of her blood, the throb of her heart, the marrow of her soul.

Yōki soaked through sinew and muscle, lapped at joints and tendons, spilled into every organ and artery, cogent with innate purpose – to claim, to ravish, nest so deep inside her that it would be inseparable. It was the medulla of life, surging and writhing and roiling, lust in the veins, bloodheat. Potent, thick, full of primal impulses, of animal instincts, slices of vigor – the baser parts of him. It merged with that insidious snare imbedded in her core, remnants of their curse, fed and nourished, swelled and grew, made her whole.

Sesshōmaru inscribed his essence in her heart, sprang forth within her bloodstream, circulated into every dip and crevice in her body, etched his name into her mind – never to be erased, never again. Nerves ravened, raw sensations, throbbing pulsation and resonance. Little by little, she took him inside, imbibed the wildness, stroked the puissance of his yōki, until it bent and twisted, thrust into the pith of her cells, until it became hers, white-hot fire stretched beneath her skin.

When Kagome emerged into the world once more, came out of her body, she was aware of proximity, of urgency and need – the seam of his mouth curling, canines withdrawing from the slickness of her flesh. Blood, dark and viscid and hers, slathered on his lips, droplets of thirst, dripping down his chin – melted gold, heated into copper lust. Her tongue darted out, cerise, slithery muscle, laved her essence on his skin, tasted the phantom beat in it, the thrill of the mating. Lick after lick, slow, sinuous, she traced the angles of his jawline, the flexure of his lips, the tips of his fangs, incited that seething urge, provoked him to complete the bond as it was meant to be fulfilled.


	56. I Need...You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 1049

Three words sprung forth, long sequestered, never said yet always felt – an inception. Heavy to form, heavier to utter, they were more real than anything she had ever spoken.

"I need… _you_."

Nothing more, nothing less. Only the ripping of silks and furs, the clangor of armor, discarded, strewn in careless piles on the floor. Man on woman, flesh against flesh, hot and hotter, firewater creasing in dips and swells. Urgency soaked through her, flowed and welled, roughness licking, lathering shivers on her skin, blood and palpitation, igneous, drumming. She needed to feel him, to have him inside, to writhe and come undone under him. Her breasts ached, heavy with desire, nipples gliding against his torso, hard peaks of crimson. Kagome arched against him, spine bent, neck thrown back, slinked and rubbed herself all over him, shameless undulations, unbridled. She clamored for ancient rituals, primeval desires, feral, whispered she didn't care for slow motions, for tamed passion. Arms wound around him, pulled and clutched, until no inch of skin was left untouched, unlicked by that roughness – and he gave her what she needed.

Teeth, lips, the coil of tongue and want, Sesshōmaru lavished the mating mark on the curve of her neck, once, twice – then lower. Canines dragged over her collarbone, across the accentuated lines, only teasing, reddening, never marring the flesh. Her nails welted his shoulder blades, sank into taut skin, urged him lower, sought that sinewy tongue, that maddening swelter. Hands enclosed her breasts, kneaded the undersides, fingers splaying, gripping, not too tight, not too soft, just enough to make her flesh swell in his mouth, nipples sliding against blunt teeth, from left to right, and right to left, over and over – a snare of licks and strokes. Neck craned back, she bit her lip, slid her pelvis against him, slathered wetness on his torso, back and forth, thighs bruising against his ribs.

A rumble rippled through his body, over glistening skin, full of animal urges, intrinsic. Kagome tilted her neck to see into his eyes, crimson spiraling into gold, glazes of heathen impulses. Pleasure seethed in her blood, nested low in her abdomen, a mass of cravings. Wet, growing wetter, her need congealed with that throb in her core, oversaturation flowing outwards, dripping down her thighs, below his pubic bones. The more she arced and moved and ground against him, the more it thickened, made sweeter. Snaking lower, coiling around his length, it glissaded in slow driblets, deluged in zesty scents and _now_.

Another rumble, rasp-hewn, one last flick, the flat of his tongue dragging over a turgid bud – then he released it, rose above her. Hands traipsed over the contours of her body, nails raked her sides, the juts of her hipbones, electrifying friction, anticipation. Her legs curled around him, fingers buried in the damp pelts beneath her, tearing fistfuls of fur as she waited. Sable, lust-distended pupils, her eyes roved over his form, sensualism layered with dominance, lithe muscles, bulging, on the precipice of completion. Sesshōmaru grasped her thighs, made her glide lower, lift higher, melded the lower parts of their bodies together. Caged in gold irises, in garnet wine, she drowned in him, in the intensity of his eyes – an influx of sensations, raw, wild-tempered. Hands moving over the backs of her knees, spreading her thighs, hard flesh sliding between sensitized folds, soaking with need, over that knot of nerves, soft tissue – he pressed there, moved, again and again, in a leisure rhythm that had her thrashing back against the furs, arching like a bowstring.

If voice still lingered in her throat, Kagome would have pleaded, would have begged him to finish this – but _she couldn't_. Only moans, spent with exertion, breasts and hips swaying, sweat streaming in stripes and crevices – then a twist of hips. Sinking, deep, so deep inside, bones grinding, muscles gripping, he filled her with everything she asked. Kagome undulated, waist bended in unnatural curves, screamed beneath him – his name, _more_ , _please_. Nothing but the soft hiss of fur against her shoulders – and how he surged and withdrew, inside her throbbing heat, her want, twisting and rubbing against all of her sweet spots, places she had forgotten they existed. Satisfaction and heat, smoldering, teeth bleeding her lower lip, blunt but sharp, nipples aching, she wanted, she needed –

A hard thrust, deep-angled, tight-clasped, he gave even more, brought her over the brink. Muscles contracted, convulsions and spasms, he urged, goaded, rammed harder into her – and she fell into that ravine of pleasure, reveled in the melting of flesh, his growls, that mounting sensation, the stretching of skin. Neck strained, back rubbed raw, realization struck as she still rode that high and she murmured his name, ecstasy and pleas.

"Sesshōmaru…don't –"

He stilled above her, tangled in the seam of lust and restriction, tightness and essentiality, unspilt aggression. It was too much – to not move, to not spend himself inside her. Hands on his face, on his body – she bore him down, atop her, stroked his cheekbone, his lower lip, thumb gliding against his canines, eyes luring, making him hearken to her touch. Such need, such want, encased in blue copper, full of _sorry_ and _please_. A growl slithered beneath taut skin, but he gave what she wanted, let her do as she pleased. Fingers, slim, dexterous, snaked between them, slid across abdominal muscles, flexing, slick with perspiration, low and lower, scraped against his hipbone, coiled around his erection – and he released that growl.

Teeth clamped around her fingers, grazed and nipped, dewdrops of blood, potent, sultry with arousal, drenching his tongue. He slipped out of her, relinquished tight, wet clasp for less tight, less wet, but he didn't mind, nothing mattered. For that glow of heat in her eyes, those moan-ridden sounds, that pressure curled around him, taking him higher with each stroke and pull, sinuous fire, skin against skin. He moved then – rough, wild impulses, tongue dragging over each finger, laving that burn, spiced blood and woman, hips surging inside her grip, coming close, closer with each twist and thrust. Muscles clenched, constriction and spasms, that fire grew and blazed, roared for release, vibrations under strung skin. Lips, reddened, swollen, she tasted her desire on his tongue, rapture and gasps, white heat slathered on her stomach, soaking her digits.


	57. I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 214

Perspiration and nude skin, the scent of male, of spent desire, three words, unspoken, the quiet side of feeling – _I love you_. Kagome laved them on the slant of his lips, her mating mark to him, her troth. Limbs tightened, tangled, pressed her against sinew and heat, tongue licking that sweet throb on her neck, slinking into the nethermost parts of her soul, stroking those words. Kagome arched against him, languorous motions, sated, huskiness slathered on skin.

"Did you hear that? Is it the mating bond?"

"In part."

Vibrations within his chest, sliding against the swells of her body, teeth dragging on the lobe of her ear. Kagome laughed softly, relished the sounds, his warmth, stretching and coiling and twining around her.

"Our change…it amplified the mating bond?"

Kagome needn't have asked, she _knew_ – but she wanted to feel his lips gliding over the slope of her neck as he answered, that sultry sensation.

"Yes."

There weren't many things left to say between them – only one. Her throat cloyed with the weight of her guilt, remnants of self-blame, as she uttered it.

"I'm sorry about…but I can't – not yet."

Three words slithered in her mind then, caressed her in intimate ways – _his_. Sesshōmaru gave her what she needed – always and forever.

_I will wait._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The End. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I had planned an epilogue, but when I finished this little chapter, I decided it would be better without one. There's no need for more, words are always lovelier when left unsaid. XD


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